


the pilgrim soul

by Emelye



Category: Far from the Madding Crowd (2015)
Genre: Fanny Robin Lives, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Graphic depictions of Farming, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23912470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emelye/pseuds/Emelye
Summary: Defeated, Gabriel clutched at a last, desperate hope to salvage Miss Everdene’s reputation. A card sent in jest between friends would surely not be as damning as a valentine sent to tease a lonely and turbulent man.“The card is mine. I sent it.”
Relationships: William Boldwood/Gabriel Oak
Comments: 60
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://ibb.co/D7rY5bN) Cover by [A Local Peasant](https://twitter.com/a_local_peasant)
> 
> Dedicated to all my lovely new and old friends at [SheenCon 2020](https://twitter.com/SheenCon2020) who encouraged this. You have only yourselves to blame.

Gabriel Oak had been in the employ of Miss Everdene for scarcely a day when Jan Coggin had confided atop the sheep shed he was thatching that Mr. Boldwood had come to call.

Gabriel threw a fork full of wheat straw atop the roof. “Is that so unusual? We are neighbors are we not?”

Jan shook his head. “Mr. Boldwood keeps himself to himself, but Fanny was like a daughter to him. He sent her to school and found her the position here when she was only a young girl. I reckon it’s all but broke his heart, her run off and nowhere to be found. Heard he had his pond dredged.”

Gabriel frowned. “Surely Miss Everdene lent her assistance though?”

Jan frowned and strained as he tightened the straw along the ridge. “Sent William Smallbury down to the village to see if he could fetch her home, but she don’t know our Fanny, does she? An’ her just taking on the farm an’ all.”

Gabriel frowned and stuck his fork in the cart. “I’m sure she would know best,” he insisted. Miss Everdene was new after all, and not a callous woman, for all that she could be careless at times.

“Of course,” Jan readily agreed.

“If there were anything more to be done, I am sure she would do it.”

If Jan’s smile seemed less than sincere it was only more impetus for Gabriel to prove his heart had set itself upon a worthy target. “O’course. Only Maryann, who saw her leave, said she was only in her working dress, naught else, and Casterbridge being five miles—”

“Casterbridge…” Gabriel echoed, recalling a young girl in the market, no cloak about her and a sweetheart in uniform.

“Aye, has a soldier in the barracks there.”

Gabriel dropped his fork as he called for Joseph to take over and ran back to the house intent upon convincing his mistress.

“It’s out of the question,” replied Miss Everdene. She was beautiful in her severe necked gown of blue crepe and her pen flowed across the letter she wrote with the most elegant hand Gabriel had ever seen. The parlor was dim for all that it was nearing mid-day. The gas lamps were not yet lit, but the heavy curtains had been drawn back to provide sufficient light for her task. “I’ve spared all I can. Pennyways all but ran this farm into the ground and there was a fire yesterday. We’ve simply too much to do to spare anyone else. My heart goes out to the girl, but she made her choice.”

Gabriel took in the soft angle of her jaw, the bow of her lips and her eyes, kind and concerned. She would not be moved in this, he knew. She truly believed she had done all she could and suffered no second thought.

“I’ve been here only a day—”

“And already you wish to leave.” Miss Everdeen stood, gathering her correspondence as if to find another corner of the house to work in that was less occupied by persistent shepherds.

“—I’ll surely not be missed. You’d not counted on a shepherd yesterday. The men will _talk_. She was one of their own, to hear it told, a daughter to Mr. Boldwood in all but name and a sister to many here.”

Miss Everdeen stamped her foot and threw down her letter opener upon the ebony desk. “You forget yourself, Shepherd Oak. My reputation is my own as is this farm mine to direct and I shall manage both as I see fit. I will not be dictated to. I will not condone a waste of resources such as this for one girl who has proven a poor investment indeed. You may do as you wish, of course, but if you are not here to bring in the sheep from pasture tomorrow eve, you may find employment elsewhere, do I make myself clear?”

Gabriel swallowed around his pride and nodded. “Yes, Miss Everdene. Perfectly clear.”

“Excuse yourself, please. I’m busy.”

“Gabriel Oak for Mr. Boldwood, please, regarding Miss Fanny Robin.”

It was Jan’s pitying look as he left the manor that made up his mind, though on the doorstep of Boldwood’s home he began to question the sense of it. He loved Miss Everdene and had resigned himself that the only way he would be permitted to express that love would be through his service and devotion to all she valued. For her sake, he couldn’t allow her to leave a soul in need when it was within her power to help. Such a thing would be beneath her and all would unfairly think her character lacking simply because they didn’t know her as Gabriel did.

But as he waited upon Mr. Boldwood, he sincerely hoped the severe man the others spoke of with such admiration would find himself disposed to accept the offer and not simply call upon his mistress to complain of the boldness of her staff.

The man himself appeared, finally, and he was not at all what Gabriel expected, he thought with some relief, though what Gabriel had expected in particular he couldn’t say. Mr. Boldwood wasn’t so terribly old, but nor was he a young man. His clothing obviously befit his wealth and station, and yet there was something almost fretful in his manner. His eyes were kind and obviously well-lined with laughter for all that they appeared stern and sober, but his mouth was nervous, and his words flit from syllable to syllable like a moth daring a candle flame. Any of those things alone should not have filled him with any sort of confidence in the man, but yet the overall effect somehow conveyed utter security in one’s welcome with no respect to status. 

Gabriel liked him immediately. “Mr. Boldwood, Gabriel Oak, Miss Everdene’s new shepherd, sent to assist in bringing Miss Fanny Robin home to Weatherbury, sir. Begging your pardon, but I believe I might have seen her.”

Boldwood’s expression was utter shock. “You’ve seen her?”

“It may be I did. Having never met Miss Fanny I would be glad of any aide of description—”

“Where? My God, man, how long ago?”

“In Casterbridge two days ago, at the fair.”

Mr. Boldwood’s eyes were writ large with surprise before a smile transformed his face into a picture of absolute joy. “There is hope, then. Mr. Oak, was it? A pleasure to meet you. I’m very grateful for your assistance, as is your mistress, I’m sure. Please, do come in.”

“Yes, sir.” As Gabriel spoke his hat and coat were taken and they were ushered into Boldwood’s study, a close room filled with shelves of books and a wide, tall window upon one wall. The man sat and unlocked a drawer at his desk, removing several bank notes before locking the drawer again. 

“Do you think forty pounds will suffice for lodgings and expenses for you both?”

Gabriel was stunned. “Sir, that would be more than generous. I hardly expected—”

Boldwood smiled and the lines about his eyes were given truth to form. “Nonsense. You’re doing me a great service. Now then. Fanny is fair haired with light eyes. She’s small, and quite slender.”

Gabriel frowned, thinking of the girl he met at a fair, cold and prevailing upon her lover. “I suspect it was her I saw. She told me she was planning to wed a soldier.”

Boldwood sank back into his chair, serious now but with an intensity of gaze. His hands gripped the arms of his chair. “I did fear as much. Do you think you can find her again?”

Gabriel nodded his head. “I believe I can. Though I cannot be certain I can persuade her away from her young man.”

Boldwood nodded absently. “And if you can persuade her, you’re certain Miss Everdene will have her back?”

Gabriel swallowed. “Sir?”

Mr. Boldwood’s smile wasn’t unkind. “I admit my acquaintance with your mistress has not been a long one, but I thought her rather too proud a woman to change her mind easily. Your loyalty, however, is a credit to her, Mr. Oak, have no doubt about that. All the same, I think it best if you bring Fanny here upon your return.”

It was many years since Gabriel had blushed, but having been so caught out in an untruth caused the very fires of hell to inflame his cheeks. “Forgive me, Mr. Boldwood.”

Mr. Boldwood waved his hand. “Bring her home, Mr. Oak, if you can, and you’ll have my forgiveness and my appreciation both.”

A horse was saddled for his use, and with his pack upon the saddle, Gabriel rode out. It was a mere hour’s ride to the town but he remembered little of the journey having slept most of it in the cart. In any case, he was relieved to see the rise of buildings before him as Casterbridge came into view. 

Gabriel thought to ride to the soldier barracks, hoping her lover or an acquaintance might know where she could be found, if anywhere. If Fanny was already with him, a Sergeant Troy if rumor could be believed, he thought he had little hope of persuading her to return. Admittedly he never expected to meet the girl before ever reaching the barracks.

She was barely a dark spot in a snow drift, struggling up the hill to the camp through the freshly fallen snow piled alongside the road. She moved sluggishly, stumbling as she went and likely faint with exhaustion. Gabriel thought she looked as though she’d not had a moment’s rest nor a meal since he’d last saw her. “Fanny!” he called out.

Her head whipped around, and her bonnet, loosened in the wind was unequal to the movement. It fell down the back of her head, revealing her face and her name before she could censor her reaction. For a moment, Gabriel watched as she weighed the merit of running against his speed on a horse and finding herself wanting, wilted, tearfully, upon the side of the road, collapsing into the snow.

Gabriel dismounted hurriedly and rushed to her side. “Fanny Robin, you are sorely missed,” he told her, and her weeping grew more bitter. 

“Them that said so wouldn’t be pleased if they knew my reason for leaving.”

Gabriel observed her arms clutched protectively about her middle. “You’re expecting?” he confirmed.

Fanny dissolved into tears. “Come, girl. Mr. Boldwood has provided for our lodging tonight. Let us get out of the cold and we can discuss what’s to be done.”

“What is there to be done?” She cried. “I’ve no family, likely no work anymore, and I’ve no money I didn’t give to Sergeant Troy. He promised to wed me. He _promised_.”

With a heaving sigh, Gabriel swept the girl up into his arms and placed her upon the horse. “All will be well. You’ll see,” he persuaded.

The inn was crowded, but warm and clean. Improper though it was, Gabriel paid for only the one room, unwilling to let Fanny out of his sight. She would have the bed, and Gabriel would have the piece of mind that she wouldn’t try to run off to the camp in the middle of the night.

“You must be tired,” Gabriel commented, taking her elbow to help her up the stairs to their room.

“I don’t think I was before. Not so’s I noticed. Now I feel as though I might never wake were I to rest my head even a moment.”

“You’ve had a long journey. It’s only natural,” he soothed, fitting the key in the lock and ushering her through the door. It was a simple room, only a bed with several quilts, a washstand and small mirror and a coat rack beside the door. A small table and chair completed the furnishings. It would suit their purposes adequately.

Gabriel took her bonnet and hung it upon the rack, encouraging her to make use of the bed. “Get some sleep. Have you eaten?” Her mouth was grim as she shook her head. “I’ll send for something to eat. Rest, I’ll wake you when it comes.”

If Gabriel thought he would need to persuade her away from her course, he was mistaken as she had scarcely reclined before she was snoring softly. Fondness swelled in his breast as he watched her. Sleep evened out her expression. He could now see she couldn’t have been much more than seventeen or eighteen, practically a child. He grew fierce thinking of the sort of man who would have used a girl like Fanny so abominably. He only hoped now that she could be convinced of her young soldier’s perfidy.

A knock on the door brought a tray for them both. He set it upon the table and roused Fanny as gently as he could manage. “The food has arrived,” he told her, watching her blink into the waking world as innocently as a new lamb. “Come get something to eat.” 

As she ate, color returned to her cheeks and Gabriel thought it safe to broach the subject of her journey.

“You thought to convince him to marry?”

Fanny nodded, eyes downcast. “Perhaps it was foolish of me to think he would honor his vow to me, but I’ve no family, Mr. Oak. I’ve nothing to my name and nowhere else to go. Pennyways has turned girls out for less.”

“I think you’ll find Pennyways is no longer employed. He was dismissed shortly after you left. As it stands, Miss Everdene is a fair mistress, but it would seem you have a benefactor in Mr. Boldwood. He’s requested you come to work for him. He will see to it that you’re cared for, Fanny.”

Fanny wept then, a great releasing of a burden she’d carried alone for far longer than she ought to have. Gabriel went to her and stroked her hair as she cried into his coat. “There now. It’s over. You’re all right now.”

“He’s too kind, Mr. Boldwood is. I don’t deserve it.”

Gabriel privately thought she may have been right about Mr. Boldwood but, “You’re not a wicked girl, Fanny. Many girls have fallen for promises of love and marriage. There’s no fault in it.”

Her tears became soft sniffles as she gathered herself about her and dried her eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Oak.”

They left the next morning on horseback, Fanny’s small fingers twisted into his waistcoat. As they approached the farm, he asked, “Do you wish to see anyone here before I bring you on to Mr. Boldwood?”

Fanny turned her head into his shoulder behind him. He could not see her but he could feel as she shook her head and imagined shame coloring her face. “No one bears you ill will, I assure you. They were that worried for you.”

“Perhaps I’ll return later, only, I don’t think I could at the moment.”

Gabriel rode on past the stiles and fields until Little Weatherbury Farm came into view.  
It was still early, dawn breaking over the blue horizon and the ground stiff with frost. The winter air was crisp and filled with birdsong. It was going to be a lovely day.

The maids sweeping the yard saw them first and rushed in to notify Farmer Boldwood. Gabriel alighted and lifted Fanny from the horse. She weighed nearly nothing. He stretched the journey out of his bones and offered his arm to her for the walk to the door. 

Mr. Boldwood came to the door at a run, the chief housekeeper behind him at a more sedate pace. “Fanny!” He cried, taking the girl into his arms in a desperate embrace. “Are you well? Have you eaten? You must be exhausted.”

When the girl began to weep Boldwood froze in horror. “Forgive me, I don’t know what I’ve done.” He looked desperately at Gabriel.

His lips pursed against the smile that threatened. “I expect she’s happy, Mr. Boldwood.”

“These are happy tears?” He asked, receiving Fanny’s nod in confirmation. Mr. Boldwood’s shoulders relaxed and his smile returned. “Well that’s all right then. Come, my girl. Mrs. Selwyn has found a pleasant room for you and I’m sure there’s something for you in the kitchen as well.”

“I’ll take her, Sir,” offered the matronly woman. “Come, dear. We’re glad to have you, you know.”

When the door had closed behind them, Mr. Boldwood turned again to Gabriel. “You are an uncommon man, Mr. Oak, and I owe you a great debt for what you have done for me. And to Miss Everdene, of course. Do let me know if she changes her mind, though I don’t mind telling you it does my heart good to see Fanny back in my household.”

Gabriel smiled. “I was happy to be of service, Mr. Boldwood. I am quite relieved to have found her well. Though I feel you ought to know she is with child.”

Boldwood’s mouth hardened. “The soldier I presume, that Sergeant Troy. I’m sure he made promises.”

“None kept.”

He nodded sadly. “I suspected as much by the man’s own reputation. She and her child are welcome here, and I’ll see to their care personally.” Boldwood extended his hand to shake. “I’ll not keep you from your duties, Mr. Oak. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. And do give my regards to Miss Everdene.”

Gabriel took his hand. “I shall. Good day sir.”

The road was already filling with carts headed to and from the village. Young Joseph would likely be bringing the flock up to pasture shortly. Gabriel returned through the meadow, thinking of relieving Joseph of his post so that the boy could get on with his other work. 

Gabriel wanted time to think, and to his mind there was no better place for it than surrounded by his flock.

Sure enough Joseph was nervously shepherding, and Gabriel laughed to see him nearly overrun by ewes. They would be lambing soon, Gabriel knew, and then there would be little time to think of anything else. “Ho there! Joseph!”

Joseph looked up, Gabriel’s own crook held in his hand like a cross to ward off evil. “Oh good, you’re back,” he replied.

Gabriel laughed. “Give it to me before they eat you.”

“Oh no, Mr. Oak, I can handle a few sheep!”

Gabriel laughed as one of the ewes began to nip at the boy’s trousers. “I’m that glad to hear it because in a few weeks I’ll need you in the lambing field.”

Joseph blinked in horror and shock. “Well that being the case I’m sure Jan Coggin will be missing me.”

Gabriel nodded understandingly and took the crook from the boy as he lept over the fence. “Right you are.” 

Joseph scuffed his boot in through the grass. “Did you find her? Miss Fanny, I mean?”

Gabriel was already examining the hooves of one of the ewes. It wasn’t split yet but it might if they didn’t take care. He would be sure to check over the sheds later. “Yes I did. I think she’ll be working for Mr. Boldwood now.”

Joseph nodded thoughtfully. “I think that’ll be for the best.”

Gabriel agreed. “I think so too. Probably someone ought to tell the others, don't you think?” He added, shifting Joseph along.

He gave a little bounce in place. “Someone ought, at that!” He said, turning on his heel and tearing off down the road.

Joseph would enjoy the celebrity of bearing novel gossip far more than he, Gabriel knew. And he had much to think on. 

Mr. Boldwood, for all that he was a solitary and serious individual, had shown himself to be a kind and compassionate man to those in his care. He had earned Gabriel’s unwavering admiration for that, though it rather threw his mistress’s own actions into sharp relief. He loved her, truly, but he’d now lied for her. Gabriel deceived Mr. Boldwood, a man without peer, for her sake and he knew not whether that reflected most poorly on her nature or his own.

Gabriel desired to play for a while as he thought but he’d only just removed his flute from his pack when he saw a small figure striding up the hill which eventually resolved itself into Miss Everdene.

“You brought her back then?” She asked, seemingly astonished.

Gabriel stood and removed his hat. “Yes, ma’am. I did. Mr. Boldwood has taken her in.”

“Mr. Boldwood,” she repeated, voice harder. “She is still under contract with me, I believe.”

Gabriel struggled not to frown though he thought very little of this change of heart. His mouth was tight as he replied. “I thought you considered her a bad risk.”

“Not so bad as to send her off! Mr. Oak, you had no right!” She shouted, clutching her skirts in anger and looking very young indeed.

Gabriel mastered his temper for her sake. “She’s with child, Miss Everdene.”

Her hand flew to her mouth in surprise. “Is that why—”

“She left in hopes of marrying the father, yes. She was disappointed. If you wish her back as things are, I’ll go to Boldwood myself. But I doubt very much you do and Mr. Boldwood is prepared to care for her and her child.”

Miss Everdene looked off toward Little Weatherbury. “What must Mr. Boldwood think of me, turning out a girl in need?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No one was privy to her situation but herself. He holds you in no ill regard, I made sure of that.”

“ _You_ made sure of it?” Miss Everdene’s hands flew to her hips and fire flashed in her eyes. “And what is Mr. Boldwood's opinion of me to you?”

Gabriel did not look away though he desperately wanted to. “He is a neighbor and you are running this farm by yourself. It is no mean task you’ve set yourself and I wouldn’t see anyone, Not Mr. Boldwood nor any idle hand in the village speak ill of you.”

Miss Everdene broke their gaze first, fingers fidgeting upon her reticule. “I didn’t hire you to play my protector. You were good to go after the girl, but if you intercede for me in such a manner again I won’t hesitate to dismiss you. As you say, I’m overseeing the farm myself, and I cannot afford for those I employ to undermine me. Even if they do so with good intentions. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Very well. I’ve much to see to and a maid to hire, apparently. Good day, Mr. Oak.”

“Miss Everdene.”

There were pints upon pints stood in his honor that night in the malthouse, but Gabriel’s mind kept turning around the generosity of Mr. Boldwood. He wanted to attribute it to drink, but in truth his curiosity about the man was entirely native to Gabriel himself. The drink could be blamed however, for the pen and paper he took up to write the man after retiring to his room.

> Dear Mr. Boldwood,
> 
> I was very pleased to make your acquaintance yesterday and I hope this letter finds you well. I write to tell you there has been much celebration over Miss Robin’s return, and to inquire after her health, which I’m sure is excellent now that she is under your care 
> 
> Your Obedient Servant,  
>  Gabriel Oak

Gabriel, somewhat in his cups, thought nothing of sending it with the outgoing mail, and less of it when he woke some hours later to find he was in danger of lateness. In fact, it wasn’t until Joseph came sprinting across the field with a reply that he remembered the letter at all.

> Dear Mr. Oak,
> 
> The pleasure was all mine, I assure you. I am quite well, thank you for asking, and I hope this finds you the same. Fanny seems to be getting on admirably, though somewhat sad for her circumstances I expect. I am certain a visit would cheer her immensely, however, should you be inclined to pass this way soon. I do, however, understand that it is nearly lambing time. Please let me know if you require any additional hands. I would be most happy to lend any assistance I can. I have not forgotten your kindness to me. It has been some years since I met another man so disposed to assist another without thought to personal recompense, nor one so loyal to his mistress. You have my admiration and my friendship, Sir, for as long as you should desire it.
> 
> Your sincere friend,  
>  William Boldwood

It had been uncommonly impetuous of him to write to Mr. Boldwood to begin with, but Gabriel could not deny that the sentiment expressed had been genuine and that Mr. Boldwood’s reply warmed him.

That evening he put pen to paper in sober mind and responded.

> Dear Mr. Boldwood,
> 
> I am gratified to hear all are well. I feel that I myself will be much better disposed when my ewes are delivered safely. I hear yours are set for lambing soon as well, so I’ll not deprive you of any men, though I know them to be a capable and trustworthy sort and the offer is kindly received.  
>  I would be happy, however, to accept your invitation to call this Sunday if that suits. If the friendship of a shepherd is something of value to you, it is yours. To that point, please call me Gabriel. 
> 
> Sincerely,  
>  Gabriel Oak

Sunday next dawned bright and fair. Joseph had come to fetch him from his cottage in the night as one of the ewes seemed ready to birth, but nothing had come of it but a sleepless night and a few hurried moments to set himself to rights before running for the parish church to arrive nearly late to services.

Mr. Boldwood caught his eye across the aisle and smiled, nodding gently in acknowledgement. Gabriel took a deep breath, relieved he hadn’t made a poor showing.

The steps of the church following service were always thronged and never more so than this Sunday, it seemed to Gabriel. At last, he heard his name called from nearer the road.

“Gabriel!”

Mr. Boldwood stood beside his gig with a rather more cheerful expression upon his face than most of the parish were accustomed to seeing if one credited how they stopped and stared. Gabriel couldn’t help his pleasure that he were the cause of such a serious man’s joy and returned the greeting with equal enthusiasm if not familiarity.

“Mr. Boldwood, I’m glad to have found you,” he said.

“William, please,” Boldwood corrected. “We are to be friends, are we not?”

“We are at that.” Gabriel thought there might have been a touch of fear in Boldwood’s eyes that he would have denied it. Nothing pleased him so much as to reassure him.

“Will you ride with me?” He asked, gesturing to the seat.

Gabriel levered himself up and Boldwood followed, taking the reins and setting the horse upon the road to his farm. 

Fanny Robin greeted them at the door, and Gabriel was pleased to see she had color in her cheeks again. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you, Gabriel,” she said.

Gabriel blushed, something he feared becoming a habit.

“Fanny tells me you were quite the gallant rescuer,” Boldwood encouraged. Gabriel would have thought him teasing were it not for the genuine excitement in his eyes.

Gabriel almost laughed to see it. “To my mind the true courage was hers. It couldn’t have been easy to leave, and I imagine even harder to return at all.”

Fanny looked down into her lap. When she looked up again there were tears in the corners of her eyes. “That’s very true, sir. That’s very true indeed.”

The visit came to a close when dinner was announced, and Fanny was called away elsewhere. Gabriel looked around for his hat and coat and was stayed by Boldwood’s hand on his elbow.

“You are staying for dinner, are you not? I suppose I wasn’t especially clear by my invitation but you are welcome and expected.”

Gabriel was touched. “Of course, I’d be delighted.”

Gabriel had rather expected an informal meal of the sort Miss Everdene and her staff enjoyed on Sundays and was shortly proved wrong when they were led to the dining room rather than the kitchen. It was a beautiful room, a long polished walnut table stood at the center of the room beneath a brass chandelier. The walls were done in a dark blue brocade and a chair rail of dark oak that should have felt oppressive but for the enormous windows upon the South wall flooding the room with light. As Gabriel took his seat near the head of the table where Boldwood’s place sat, he saw several courses had already been laid and Gabriel noted many of his particular favorites were represented. 

Such pains he’d taken. Gabriel had known Boldwood was a lonely man by reputation, but to see the evidence of it with his own eyes pained Gabriel in a way he thought he might never have felt before. For hadn’t he known what it was to be the only soul for miles and never to have anyone to rely on when difficulty comes? Gabriel thought he understood nothing so well at all, and yet to see that common feeling in a man as fine as Mr. Boldwood seemed such a shame Gabriel could scarcely breathe for sorrow. 

As they dined, they spoke amiably of the lambs, the upcoming market, the health of Boldwood’s prized horses and which ewes Gabriel though likely to twin, of which there were at least three that concerned him.

Eventually all polite conversation had been exhausted with the last of the roast and Boldwood invited Gabriel to the parlor for brandy. 

They sat beside the fire, a snifter a piece, and Gabriel thought it as pleasant a room and as pleasant company as he’d ever enjoyed and told Boldwood as much.

“I’m very glad to hear it. I seldom have guests and I may have been in a slight mania since receiving your letter.”

“I hope you didn’t go to much trouble on my account.”

“It was no trouble, really. I am not well liked for all that I am respected in the parish and I’ve rarely had call to host anyone, though the house is admirably suited for it and my parents enjoyed entertaining. I admit I was excited by the challenge," he confided, saying, "I do value your friendship a great deal.”

Gabriel took a fortifying swig of his brandy, wanting very much to complain that he was only a simple shepherd for all that he’d had his own farm once, but he wouldn’t disrespect the man to do so. “I imagine many men have the benefit of a wife to sort their social calendars for them and the rest of us must make do. Have you never thought to marry?”

Boldwood hummed into his glass and Gabriel could see he was turning over a thought in his mind and weighing it. When he spoke it was with careful deliberation. “Never have I married, because those things I have desired most in a companion I find most women ill suited to provide me with.”

Gabriel hesitated to inquire further, fearing an indelicate turn to the conversation, yet he couldn’t help asking, “What of children?”

At that, Boldwood gave a humorless laugh. “That I may never see but twice yearly when their governess deigns to present them to me? That I should be as strange to a child as I was to my own father? I shouldn’t think so, no. I have pride enough in my foals; I hardly need human stock for show.”

Gabriel set his glass upon the low table and regarded his friend frankly. “That’s a hard way to see things. You wouldn’t even wish for a babe to dandle on your knee?”

Boldwood didn’t meet his eye but stared pensively into the fire. “Our Fanny will be having hers soon enough. Perhaps her child shall suit any latent desire for fatherhood. Or yours?” He added with a touch of speculation.

Gabriel nearly choked on his brandy. “I think not sir. I set my hopes on someone at one time when my fortunes were greater and was disappointed. I very much doubt there shall be another woman for me.” They were quiet in their contemplation for a long moment before Gabriel spoke, unable to dispel his cherished dream of a marriage to Bathsheba. “I often thought it should be nice, though. Someone to sit beside the fire with of an evening. To look up and see them there, and them me.” 

Their eyes met across the fire and Boldwood’s eyes softened. “A lovely companionship indeed. What of conversation? Should it dwell upon your interests or hers, the both of which shall likely never meet?”

Gabriel looked up in shock at the bitter change in Boldwood’s tone. There was a deep pain there, Gabriel was sure of it.

“Forgive, me, I shouldn’t be so—”

“You should,” Gabriel argued.

Boldwood clutched his head in his hands a moment, breathing as if to calm himself. “I’m not easy in the company of others. I suppose I have been lonely, but my chief desire has always been for a relationship of equals—a friend beyond all else.” 

Gabriel thought he understood. “As a man of means I reckon most of the women of a mind to court were more interested in fine clothing and carriages.”

Another laugh steeped in bitterness. “To put it mildly. There was a woman once, long ago. She was clever and quite amusing. I liked her very much, but she had another suitor and it was not to be.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. I can’t help thinking the loss was hers. In any case, disappointed hopes are never easily forgotten.”

“No, they’re not. Perhaps I’ve been too solitary, as a result. You will do your duty as a friend, and force me from my study at gunpoint, if necessary, on occasion?”

Gabriel laughed. “It would be my honor and privilege.”

They parted at the door, a tight clasping of hands, Gabriel’s between Boldwood’s own, and it didn’t strike him until he neared to the door of his own cottage how the warmth of them had lingered.

The thirteenth of February began with two ewes twinning in the early hours, and another a short while later. The other dams would likely birth their lambs in the following day and he’d thus far not lost a single one, but the day was early and too much was uncertain to say whether they’d come through safely. Joseph fretted nervously by the stile of the pen where the ewes at risk were kept for lambing, chewing his fingers as Gabriel checked the new lambs and returned them to the tired dams resting on the straw. 

“Joseph, if you’d like an occupation, we can use more water.”

Joseph ran from the sight of the blood and afterbirth as fast as his young legs could carry him and Gabriel quite expected him back in a similar manner. He was sluggish though, and Gabriel quite cross by the time he returned.

“What took you so long?” He demanded, taking the pails and filling the troughs.

“Sorry. The mail came and there was a letter for you from Mr. Boldwood. Also Liddy and the Mistress are back from the market. She’ll be out to see the lambs later, she told me to tell you.”

“That’s fine, Joseph.”

“Is Mr. Boldwood courting Mistress Everdene?”

Gabriel’s head shot up so quickly he nearly dropped the lamb in his arms. “Where would you get a notion like that?”

Joseph shrugged. “Something Liddy said about Miss Everdene sending Mr. Boldwood a valentine. It may be that she meant it as a joke. Only I don’t think it’s a funny sort if she did. Mr. Boldwood never did anyone any harm.” 

Gabriel handed the lamb to Joseph. “Finish checking that one over and get it bedded with it’s dam. I have to go. I’ll be back before long.”

Joseph called after him but Gabriel was already halfway through the meadow. He had to stop that valentine reaching Mr. Boldwood. His friend was not a man to have his feelings so trifled with. How could Bathsheba be so cruel? Had she no sense? No consideration for how such a thing might look to others? How could she have done it? He’d thought her a clever woman once, a kind woman, for all that her pride and vanity were easily wounded. Now though, with such damning evidence against her character, Gabriel wondered if he ever really knew her at all.

The mail cart had only just arrived when Gabriel caught sight of the front door. The housekeeper, Mrs. Selwyn, was only just taking the envelope in hand when Gabriel called out, “Stop! Please! Stop!”

Startled, they both turned and regarded Gabriel with equally perplexed expressions. “Shepherd Oak, may I help you?” she asked. 

“The card there, that one—” he pointed. “You mustn’t give it to Mr. Boldwood.”

“I beg your pardon,” said the mail carrier. “Interfering with the mail is a crime, sir.”

“I’m not interfering, only you cannot give that card to him, ma’am. Please.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Selwyn told the carrier, indicating she had the matter well in hand. The man seemed reluctant to abandon the letters to either of them when the matter of their reaching their intended recipient seemed so uncertain, but he could hardly stand about all day to settle the matter. With a disapproving look he took up his reins and drove the cart onward down the road. When he was at last a fair distance away, Mrs. Selwyn turned back to Gabriel. “Shepherd Oak I am not in the habit of neglecting my duties. What is this about.”

“The person who sent that did so not knowing what harm they’d be causing by it. I can’t let you give it to him.”

The housekeeper glared at him. “Mr. Boldwood’s correspondence is his own business and I’ll thank you to remember your own!”

Gabriel’s voice grew hoarse in frustration, his fists clenching at his side. “He is my friend, and it _is_ my business!”

Mrs. Selwyn sighed and tucked the card in her apron before turning back up the steps. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Truly. But whatever this is, it is for him to judge, and not yourself, however fine your intentions may be.”

Defeated, Gabriel clutched at a last, desperate hope to salvage Miss Everdene’s reputation. A card sent in jest between friends would surely not be as damning as a valentine sent to tease a lonely and turbulent man. 

“The card is mine. I sent it.”

Gabriel attempted to reassure himself of this even as the housekeeper examined the seal with a raised eyebrow. 

“From you,” she confirmed, incredulously.

Gabriel nodded emphatically. “Yes, ma’am.”

She frowned, her disapproval extremely evident as she looked him up and down. “If you say so.”

She returned inside and Gabriel sighed, watching the mail cart disappear down the road to the village. With any luck, he had spared Bathsheba another scandal and his dear friend the pain of her torment. Whether he would retain either his position or that valued friendship after this deception would remain to be seen.

Joseph came running across the meadow a moment later. “It’s another one twinning!” He shouted.

Gabriel forgot the card entirely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My physician is of the opinion that my disposition would benefit from the acquisition of a wife. I had thought perhaps to court Miss Everdene,” said William, brightly.
> 
> Gabriel felt his heart stop in his chest. “Miss Everdene?”
> 
> “It was to her you made an offer, was it not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [LifeIsTicketyBoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeIsTicketyBoo) for beta reading! Also, please see the end notes for the stunning new illustration for this chapter by [Lery](https://twitter.com/leryavart)!

For two weeks, Gabriel slept little and ate only what was pressed into his hands by the other workers when they reported to him. Miss Everdene herself rode afield with him several times upon his rounds of the lambing pasture and, to her credit, did not shy from the work even when they happened upon an ewe in distress and were required to assist the birth. It was a small reassurance that he was not so bad a judge of character as he’d feared, and yet he couldn’t deny something had cooled within his heart where she was concerned.

Lambs were found and checked over every hour. The sickly lambs and the youngest ewes they knew would have trouble were shuffled quickly to the pens to be kept warm and looked after. A young ewe suffered ringwomb, and Gabriel was called to the pen to see if the lambs might be saved. His hand was steady and the lambs were delivered whole and healthy. The ewe would likely not survive the ordeal, however, and it remained to be seen if any other nursing dams would accept the orphaned lambs.

Shortly after, the Little Weatherbury shepherd sent for him to assist with two cases of ringwomb in his own flock.

Miss Everdene saw to the lambs in the shed, bottle feeding the orphans with the young maids, and Gabriel watched over the rest.

When all was said and done, of the ewes and lambs lost, they had a balance of two orphaned lambs. The shepherd at Little Weatherbury had lost a good deal more of his lambs to badgers before the sett was discovered and destroyed, and he was eager to have the two lambs for a pair of ewes without.

Early in the morning, Gabriel crossed the pasture between their farms with a lamb under each arm. “Do you have the skins?” he asked the shepherd.

“Aye, they’re waiting.”

The dams refused to let the lambs nurse. Gabriel looked to the lambs, examined the skins, and seeing they were well done, looked more closely at the lambs themselves. Discreetly, he smelled his own clothes and recoiled.

The other shepherd laughed. “I’ve only just come in from the fields, myself. I’ll take the skins if you want to wash up under the pump there. I reckon we can get the lambs cleaned up.”

Gabriel ducked his head and laughed. 

The pump was cold and bracing, and his shirt, jacket and waistcoat were given to one of the maids to wash, though he’d not have faulted her if they made their way into the fire instead. Joseph was sent on to Nest Cottage to fetch back a change of clothes for Gabriel.

Water ran in rivulets down his chest as the muck and blood drained away into the yard. His hair dripped onto his shoulders and he scrubbed his face with his hands, feeling his mind and body wake completely for the first time in a fortnight. He shook the water from his hair and removed his hands from his face only to catch the eye of Mr. Boldwood, standing before the window watching Gabriel drown himself under his pump.

Gabriel wondered that he didn’t just come into the yard if he was interested in the transfer of the lambs, but it was not a thought that persisted. He gave a friendly wave to the man in the window. Boldwood’s eyes went wide and he gave a small acknowledgement of his own before disappearing back into the house.

Gabriel frowned, suddenly recalling the valentine.

“I expect Mr. Boldwood will be wanting to thank you himself,” said the shepherd, “but for my part I’m not sure what’d I’d have done if you hadn’t been so capable an’ just across the way.”

“It was no trouble,” Gabriel assured him. 

An hour or so later, the ewes finally took to the lambs and Joseph had returned with clothes for Gabriel, quite grateful to be covered in the chill air. 

Boldwood did not reappear, so Gabriel sent his good wishes to the master and to Fanny and returned to his flock in the fields. There was still much to be done. Gabriel set snares for foxes and birds around the fence line. He set some of the younger boys on lookout for badgers and stray dogs. He ordered new straw for the sheds and pens. Most of the lambs were up and playing now, and Gabriel took a moment to rest with his favorite ewes to watch them. 

“You’ve a gift, Gabriel. Truly.”

Gabriel turned toward Boldwood’s voice. He had ridden out on his favorite chestnut mare. They stood on the road above him under an old, dead oak with an overhanging branch like a gibbet. The sight made something in Gabriel long to settle business quickly and see Boldwood safely on his way, but then Boldwood smiled at Gabriel, and Gabriel, so relieved not to be subject to his friend’s ire, was helpless not to return it. “I do what I can,” he replied.

“Here,” said William, tossing something small to Gabriel. “I could hardly let such a heartfelt sentiment go unanswered.”

Gabriel looked down at the coin in his hand. The initials “WB” were engraved and wrapped around a floridly bordered oak branch. A love token, then. Gabriel laughed and removed his hat, pressing it to his chest in an exaggerated swoon.

Boldwood’s laughter rang through the field. “Will you dine with me at home tonight? I wish to thank you for your assistance with the ewes. I’m sure Fanny would be happy to chaperone if you require assurance of my honorable intentions.”

Gabriel laughed silently and shook his head. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Seven then?”

“Seven,” Gabriel agreed and watched as his friend took up the reins and turned back toward his farm, feeling more fortunate than he’d ever recalled feeling in his life.

Gabriel fussed with his tie for far longer than was strictly necessary, frowning into the small mirror above his washstand. There was no reason he should be ill at ease. It wouldn’t be his first visit to Boldwood’s home, nor even his first dinner. 

Yet, without the excuse of visiting Fanny, there was an unusual formality to the occasion. Gabriel wasn’t ignorant of social customs, nor was he uneducated, but he had seldom had occasion to exercise his finer manners and he was largely self-taught. 

He knew by both reputation and experience that Boldwood was not the sort of man to value station above character. Gabriel concluded it was his own foolish vanity he was attempting to appease, gave up straightening the knot at his throat, and made peace with his reflection. 

Gabriel’s concerns were immediately proven to be without merit. Boldwood was as generous a host as ever. Despite the formality, he put Gabriel at his ease and showed an intense interest in his person and his work. Gabriel found himself talking far more than was his custom, and asked, teasingly, if perhaps the man was thinking of taking up the trade.

Boldwood hummed thoughtfully into his glass of wine, as if seriously considering the question. “You do seem quite at peace when you’re working.”

“I suppose I am, yes.”

Boldwood cut his eyes and gave an uneasy smile. “Forgive me, am I being too effusive?”

Gabriel immediately regretted teasing him. “Not at all. I suppose I’m not accustomed to thinking about how I appear to others.”

“I’ve made you self conscious.”

Gabriel shook his head. “A little, but it’s alright. There’s little to the life of a farmer that isn’t work, and I suppose it would be odd not to to discuss it if one is hoping to be known.” He hoped it was the right thing to say. 

Boldwood smiled, genuinely now. “I’m glad. I very much want to know you better.” 

It would seem Gabriel hadn’t put the man off entirely. “Then I can hardly refuse you. What would you like to know?”

“Do you love it as much as it appears? In truth, I _am_ harboring a secret yearning to become a shepherd and I’ve already had several crooks made, so do consider your answer carefully.”

Gabriel laughed heartily at that and took a sip of his wine. “I do, quite sincerely. I always have, ever since I was a boy. I find something...sacred in it, I suppose. You take life in your hands, and you look at the beauty of it, It’s purpose and meaning in creation, and then you...help it. Heal it, sometimes. Guide it to serve its purpose to the best of your ability.” Gabriel paused and flexed his fingers around the stem of his glass, too aware of the sound of his voice. He’d never set foot in a school room in his life, and yet here he was, presuming to explain the man’s own business to him. “Forgive me, I must sound like a fool—”

Boldwood was leaning his direction, shaking his head. “No, not at all. I’ve never heard it described so eloquently.”

“My father always said it was in the name, ‘husbandry.’ We’re espoused to the land, to the animals in our care. You learn how they grow best, how they live in harmony with the seasons, the weather, people, other creatures, and you take that knowledge and you build upon it to serve them.”

“I think my father rarely saw anyone or anything but for the price it could fetch at market.” It was said so simply Gabriel nearly missed the bleakness of the sentiment itself. 

Gabriel looked down at his plate, considering his response carefully. “It’s certainly a more practical attitude to take. And it seems to have served him well.”

Boldwood shook his head. “You’re very kind to say but I’m aware of how removed I am from my living.”

Gabriel was surprised by that assessment. “In the time I’ve known you I’ve never thought you indifferent to your people or your stewardship.”

Boldwood twisted the napkin in his lap. “I’m not in the slightest. I care very much for them, and for their livings, but I feel—”

“Responsible,” finished Gabriel.

“ _Yes_. It’s...I feel so incredibly ungrateful saying so, but such a great deal relies upon the income of this farm, it’s difficult not to feel a certain...resentment I suppose, that so much should depend upon me and I shall always be dependent on the vagaries of weather and blight and the movement of the markets.”

“I suppose we all assume your success insulates you from those concerns.”

“Never. Every year I hold my breath, hoping the prices hold, that the crops come in without incident, that the animals remain healthy and breed well. It feels like luck, for all that you’ve shown me how much skill is truly at play.”

Gabriel could hardly let such self-denigration stand. “Your workers are skilled. Your tenants respect you. I know the terror of misfortune befalling your farm, but should it occur, God forbid, you can be assured it would be through no fault of your own.”

Boldwood looked uneasy at that proclamation, despite Gabriel’s intention to comfort. “If you didn’t have this living, what do you suppose you would do?” He asked, attempting to change the subject.

Boldwood groaned. “Oh, what a question. Shall we adjourn to the study?”

Gabriel rose and followed his friend. “Lead the way.”

Much as before, Boldwood poured them each a generous brandy and they took their customary seats beside the fire.

“Did you always wish to be a shepherd?” he asked.

Gabriel stiffened slightly with remembered pain, though he answered truthfully. “I am content in it, though I aspired to own my own farm, and I did, as you may know, for a time. I found it a difficult living and it ended badly for me.”

“Do you miss it?”

Gabriel laughed, ruefully. “Mostly, I miss my dog. And you? Did you always aspire to this life? Any dreams of running away to sea as a boy?”

Boldwood seemed to weigh his response carefully. “I have always found that the comfort in fellowing with the working classes is the sure understanding that the fault of our misfortunes are not always our own. There are always circumstances outside our sphere of control which cannot be helped, and in that shared helplessness is a...a resiliency of spirit, a lack of pity and the resolution to do as one must to carry on.”

Gabriel thought it a very sharp observation for all that he couldn’t see it’s relevance to the matter at hand. “That is true. There is a comfort, there, with others who have shared in the frustration of their hopes, though not all of us can claim the same circumstances even among ourselves.”

“I suppose not. You yourself seem to be well educated.”

Gabriel sighed. “Both more and less than would have been beneficial, I’ve often thought.”

“I rather know what you mean. My father thought nothing of sending me to school with the sons of barons and earls. He meant for me to become canny in business and to further our family name by my successes here. I...excelled in school, but when I finished, my closest confidants returned to their families, their estates, and holdings, and I...returned to bring in the grain from the fields.” William paced before the fire. “No one ever asked me if I desired this life, and I don’t suppose I ever saw much choice in the matter. After my parents died, I had the care of my younger sister, and our survival was my responsibility.”

“It is hard to find joy in a forced existence,” Gabriel commiserated.

Boldwood shook his head vigorously as if arguing a point in his own head. “As you so astutely observed, I’m well protected by my situation. What right have I to complain of my circumstances? What else am I fit for if not this, Gabriel? It seems to me barbarically ungrateful to wish for anything else when so many deserving others have so few opportunities afforded them.”

“You’ve as much right to your feelings as any man,” Gabriel said, going to him. They stood close together against the mantle, the heat from the fire a dull warmth against their legs.

“Sometimes,” said William, confiding in hushed tones, voice breaking with emotion, “I feel as if the entire weight of this house and living is pressing upon my chest, _crushing me_.”

William’s face was a rictus of agony and Gabriel drew him roughly against his chest in a tight embrace as bitter sobs began to echo through the room. “It’s all right.”

William wept as if he’d been holding a sea storm within his chest. Great, heaving wails that racked his body and shook his frame. Gabriel held him tighter against the onslaught, his hand smoothing the expanse of fine woolen on his back, soothing him through his grief.

“Excuse me, sir, is everything all right?” 

William stilled against Gabriel’s chest at the sound of Fanny’s voice. With a sniff and a stiffening of his shoulders, he answered, “Quite all right, Fanny. Just had a bit of a turn. Too much wine, I expect. No need to trouble yourself.”

Fanny, Gabriel saw, seemed to treat that sentiment with all the contempt it deserved. “I’ll just get your coat, sir. I expect Mr. Oak will be needing to retire to the fields soon.”

“My coat?”

“Yes sir. I expect the air will do you good.”

“The air,” repeated Gabriel.

Fanny pressed their coats and hats, and Gabriel’s pack into their arms and stepped close so they wouldn’t be overheard. “I won’t hear the staff talking about this tomorrow, but neither should you be alone right now. Go on with you, now.”

“Right you are, Miss Fanny,” said Gabriel, bussing her cheek fondly as she slapped his arm.

William looked tremendously uneasy. “I really don’t think—”

“And that’s probably for the best,” Fanny retorted, tartly.

William’s eyes grew wide with surprise and Gabriel laughed despite himself. “I expect we’ve little say in the matter,” Gabriel said.

“I suppose not,” said William. “I hope you won’t mind terribly if I join you.”

“Not at all.”

The night was bright, lit by the full moon hung low over the treetops. Gabriel led William along the hill over the pasture where the sheep were fenced. From their vantage point they could see most of the valley, the dogs circling lazily around the flock, the flock noisily settling down for the night, each lamb with it’s dam. All was calm.

Once Boldwood had settled himself awkwardly upon the grass, Gabriel took himself down the hill, and found one of the dams with twins. Gently, he removed one of the lambs and brought it up the hill. 

“What are you doing?” Asked William.

Gabriel, with very little ceremony, placed the lamb in William’s lap. “Hold that for me, would you?”

The man looked down at the little ewe lamb and stroked its ears. Gabriel pulled a bottle of wine from the pack Fanny had shoved into his arms and removed the cork with his teeth. He took a deep pull from the bottle and found it to be quite a bit better than he expected. “Apologies. I think this must have been one of yours,” he said, offering William the bottle.

William looked up at him, lips turned down and eyebrows half up his forehead, a look of deep skepticism to be sure. He took the bottle in the hand that wasn’t occupied with the lamb and after a moment of consideration took a drink. He looked off across the valley, deliberately not meeting Gabriel’s eyes. “I apologize for earlier,” he said. “That was an unconscionable display. I don’t know what came over me. Truly, I’m terribly ashamed.”

Gabriel took the bottle from him and took a larger drink. “William,” he said.

“Yes?”

“I suspect you’ve been too much alone for too long.”

William’s breath hitched in his chest before he replied. “That may be. If only I were as untroubled by a solitary life as yourself.”

Gabriel gestured expansively to the woods at their back and the valley stretched below them. “But I’m not alone,” he argued. “Neither of us are, anymore.”

Boldwood huffed and adjusted his weight beneath the lamb who bleated once, upset at being disturbed. “I hardly think sheep provide the sort of companionship of which most people would approve,” he muttered, his cheeks darkening slightly in the light of the lantern.

“Not what I meant,” said Gabriel. The wind brushed through the trees, shaking leaves and rustling branches in its wake, the soft, susurration of air currents. “Can you hear that?” Gabriel asked. A tawny owl called and insects began to buzz and hum in their ears. A fox cried somewhere in the woods and Gabriel cocked his head to hear better, trying to determine if it was near enough to be a nuisance. It didn’t cry again and he thought perhaps it would remain a problem for another day.

“Quite a symphony,” William said, his voice hushed. 

“Do you feel alone in the midst of all that?”

William’s eyes locked on Gabriel’s. “No. I can’t say that I do.”

Gabriel sat back down beside him, close enough to whisper as he handed the bottle back. “Then shut up and stroke your lamb.”

William let out a startled laugh and Gabriel joined suit. 

For a long while they sat in silence, staying close together upon the grass, sharing the bottle and listening to the night as it came alive around them. The lamb was sound asleep in William’s lap. 

“Thank you,” said William.

Gabriel fidgeted with a stick he’d picked up in the grass and chucked it aside. He spoke slowly and with deliberation. “When my father died, I thought I would shake apart in the silence of the cottage. Some nights I could feel the walls closing in around me. I couldn’t bear it, and so I ran out into the dark fields. I was still young then, I wasn’t taking shifts in the pastures at night yet, but one of the older shepherds who did found me. He did much like I did: Put a lamb in my arms, sat me down, and gave me a nip off his bottle that probably could have stripped the paint from the barn. He started asking me about the birds calling in the woods and taught me how to measure distance by sound to know where the birds of prey and the foxes were. I was handy enough with a sling by then and I could take down a sparrowhawk if needed. I could fend for myself well enough on my own, for all that I wasn’t much more than a boy, but from that night on, I could take comfort from the world around me when I felt alone, and it settled something in my soul.”

William looked down at the lamb in his lap and gave it a gentle stroke. “I can see why you love it so. It’s...very easy to feel part of it all like this.”

“You _are_ part of it, William. These woods share your property. Your pasture is just there,” he pointed off down the valley. “You’ve more right to it than anyone.”

“I suppose that’s true.” William looked out over the flock. “It _is_ peaceful here.”

Gabriel ducked his head and smiled, looking over at his friend. “I may not be your peer, strictly speaking, but any time you require it, I’m always glad for company. I’ll never be far.”

William’s eyes took in the whole of him as he regarded Gabriel and seeming to have found him sincere, said, “Thank you. I believe I may take you up on that.”

Gabriel, for his part, thought it likely there was little in his life he valued so much as that.

It was a busy spring keeping the lambs safe from predation and the flock out of the early rains. Several rams needed hoof treatments from long days in the sheds and Gabriel wrung the other shepherds ears off for it when he found their pens not as clean as he’d have liked. The days were long, but passed quickly and when he retired to Nest Cottage at night, his head scarcely touched the pillow before sleep took him one instant and the cock crowed the next. So it was something of a miracle that he found two hours to rub together midweek for a trip to the malthouse with his men.

“An’ here he is, Himself! And I heard you’ve been riding ponies over at Little Weatherbury with Master Boldwood! No wonder we haven’t seen you in an age, much too fine a sort to carry on with the likes of us!”

Mark Clark was sliding a mug of ale across the table in his direction even as he teased Gabriel for his long absence from their company. Gabriel ducked his head and cursed the heat that rushed from his collar to his ears as he replied as evenly as he could, “Mr. Boldwood has a new stable master and wanted an outside opinion on his breeding mares.”

The truth was Gabriel had but one day off in the week, and more often than not, if he hadn’t been looking for a reason to go up the hill to Little Weatherbury, there William would be on the steps of the church with an invitation to lunch or a request for some small service that would stretch into a long afternoon in his study. Now that the weather was fine there were endless questions of little importance about his prized horses which would lead to them riding out on their favored pair, William’s chestnut mare and a dappled grey for Gabriel. They would ride across his fields, past the village, over hills and valleys to the woods that bordered his land, and breathless and laughing in their exertion, they would turn around and take the horses back along the brook that wound through the valley. Gabriel looked forward to it every week. 

They didn’t converse much on these rides. Gabriel got the sense that, in some way, they’d said all they’d needed to say out on the side of the hill. There was life in William’s eyes now, a spark whenever he looked at Gabriel, and Gabriel, God help him, in his most secret heart, cherished that he had been the cause of it. 

It was a foolish, dangerous pride, and he was too sensible a man to nurture it. But neither would he deny himself the pleasure of William’s company so freely offered, nor would it keep Gabriel from offering any service within his power to give that he required.

“Confirmed bachelor, that one,” added Jacob Smallbury. “Ought to be sure it’s only the mares he’s an interest in you looking at—”

Gabriel slammed his fist on the sturdy table between them. “I am an honorable man, and when I tell you Mr. Boldwood is a man of good character, I will be taken at my word, or him who doubts me will smell and taste this. I’ll hear no more idle chat on the matter, clear?”

“Of course, Shepherd Oak,” said Jan Coggin in a placating manner. “We all know ‘im to be a man of quality.”

“Quite right,” added Joseph Poorgrass. 

“Never meant any harm, you know,” said Jacob.

Gabriel accepted their assurances with good grace, but did not linger in the malthouse once his mug was emptied.

May brought with it as perfect a day as anyone could remember seeing. The weather had warmed and the fields were green and the breeze was dry and southwesterly. By mutual agreement the sheep wash was filled and used to its fullest. Every able-bodied hand available was left as wet as a dolphin once the sheep were all washed and set out into the sunny pasture to dry. Gabriel, no exception himself, made for the main house to fetch his pack and the clothes within it and was pleasantly surprised to find William waiting there beside his carriage.

“I’d hoped to find you here,” he said.

“Is that so?” greeted Gabriel. “Well I’m glad to be found in any case, though I’d perhaps have preferred dryer clothes for the occasion.”

“Yes, well,” Boldwood stammered, his face coloring. Gabriel didn’t mean to consistently remind him of his lower station but it seemed hopeless that he could present a dignified front at all times. “It so happens I had business in Norcombe yesterday. I happened upon something I thought you might have an interest in.”

Curiosity piqued, Gabriel’s mind sharpened upon his friend’s mystery. “Oh? What is that?”

William smiled shyly and opened the door of his carriage.

“George?” The dog bounded out of the carriage to his erstwhile master. Heedless of his state, he knelt to greet his old dog and scruff his ears and neck. “How did you find him?”

Seeing his obvious pleasure, William happily stated, “A few inquiries. Nothing arduous, I assure you.”

Gabriel pressed his face into his dog's fur and took a steadying breath. He couldn’t know. He _couldn’t_ know what this meant to him. “I don’t know what to say,” he said. “What do I owe you? Are you sure you won’t keep him yourself? He’s a wonderful herder.”

William knelt beside him and ran his own hand over the dog’s head. George’s eyes rolled up in his head as his tongue lolled out, looking adoringly on the man who purchased him. “He’s _yours_ , Gabriel.” William assured him, softly. “You owe me nothing.”

His eyes were soft and lovely.

Gabriel rose to his feet, thinking of idle talk and the watching eyes of the farm hands, desperate to put some distance between them. He played with George and began to run, thinking to exercise him out in the fields. He couldn’t let such a gesture go without acknowledgement, though, and from the gate he called, “Will I see you Sunday?” 

William’s face was alight with joy and it stopped the breath in Gabriel’s chest. “Of course.”

Gabriel nodded, feeling the pressure to run more strongly than ever. With a whistle, George heeled and together they set out across the fields.

Nest cottage was silent that night but for the crackling of the hearth and George’s soft snoring. Gabriel sat at the table turning over the love token between his fingers.

It was a joke between friends, much as he’d intended Boldwood to accept Bathsheba’s valentine on his behalf. How foolish he was, then, to look upon the initials and the branch and wish it to be anything else. 

Gabriel was a churchgoing man, knew well the law of the land where such matters were concerned and never had much cause to consider them otherwise. He was also canny enough to know some rams would never tup an ewe, and no thinking person would suggest they were troubled by the state of their souls. 

Gabriel sighed and irritably flicked the coin with his finger before returning it to his waistcoat pocket. These idle thoughts would amount to nothing. William Boldwood was a good and decent man and Gabriel had no business thinking about him in such a manner, whatever careless talk was bandied about in the village. 

Except. 

Gabriel had loved girls before. He’d been beguiled by their fair faces and soft lips and gentle voices, and they’d loved him back. He had been a popular beau in Norcombe once, but until he’d met Miss Everdene it had never occurred to him to marry any one of them. And her, perhaps, only because he’d not known what else to do about such a beauty in his midst. Whatever he might have thought, his affection for her was real. She _was_ beautiful and bright and self-possessed, and she was not significantly diminished in his eyes for her capricious joke at Boldwood’s expense, nor for their occasional disagreements, not really. 

It was just that what he felt for William, what he’d felt when he’d held him as he wept, as they’d shared wine and company under the Pink Moon, when he watched the strong line of his back as he galloped his horse through the fields, was so much _more_ than any desire he’d ever felt before in his life. It was a living thing within his breast, and hungry.

There came a frantic knock on the door. George rose and whined as Gabriel went to answer. 

“Shepherd Oak, will you come to Little Weatherbury? It’s bloat, sir. A third of the flock found clover after the wash and ate themselves sick.”

Gabriel thought desperately of what a loss that would be to Boldwood and made haste to grab his pack, George trailing obediently on his heels. “Let’s go.”

The shepherd must have sent for him at the first signs of bloat for none of the sheep were dead yet, thankfully, but there was little time to spare and many that needed aid. “Can you sew?” he asked the men gathered in the fields. They looked to one another and a few raised their hands. “I’ll need you to suture the wound once I’ve expelled the air from the rumen. I won’t have time to do both.”

Gabriel started on the first sheep without waiting for them to fall in line. He felt along the side of the animal for the proper place and made his cut, pressing gently on the swollen gut of the beast. Foul air released with a spray of foul fluids that covered Gabriel’s lower half, but he neither flinched nor retched. “Grab hold of her, now!” He ordered as the ewe, much improved, began to thrash and attempt to bolt. “Get the needle and thread ready and stitch up her side. I’m on to the next one!”

An hour or more he worked, heedless of the vile smelling muck that covered him as he worked to spare Boldwood’s flock. Boldwood’s shepherd and his men worked quickly behind him to close up the wounds he left and soon all were returning to the field, well out of danger.

“They may still sicken,” Gabriel warned. “But so long as they’re kept well away from the alfalfa and clover I expect they’ll live.”

Several of the men dared his state to shake his hand and he didn’t deny them for all he pitied them for the close contact.

It was quite late by the time he returned to the cottage and later still by the time he managed to clean himself sufficiently for bed. George curled at his feet and Gabriel’s last thought before falling into an exhausted sleep was hope that if he should be denied in all other ways, that by his service William would know his love for him.

He rose late the following morning and rushed about the cottage before bolting off across the fields to meet his men. They were not late to meet Miss Everdene, though it might have been a close thing if their pace had not been quick. 

That afternoon Miss Everdene found him as he was sharpening shears in the barn. “May I speak to you Gabriel?”

Gabriel stilled the wheel and set down the heavy shears upon the grindstone. “Yes, Miss?”

“I understand you aided the Little Weatherbury shepherd again last night.”

“Yes, Miss, I did.”

“And I’m told you were rather late to your work this morning.”

Gabriel shook his head. “The men are accustomed to my early habits. I was on time this morning.”

“I see,” she said, running a hand over the wheel. “Some of the men are talking. I hear you’ve been spending quite a lot of time over at Little Weatherbury. Specifically in Mr. Boldwood’s company.”

“I assure you, my loyalty remains with you and my work here. I’m not being poached.”

“Your loyalty is not in question, Shepherd Oak, only the propriety of being in such intimate confidence with the man.”

Gabriel still failed to understand her objection. “It was my loyalty to you that assured our close association, Miss Everdene, when I assumed responsibility for the valentine you sent.”

This seemed to shock her. “You did what?”

“Your joke would have hurt him deeply and undeservedly. I claimed it in the interest of sparing you both.”

“Pack your bag and leave at once,” she demanded.

“You’re dismissing me?”

“I told you I would not be managed or undermined by you or anyone in my employ. I know my own mind, Mr. Oak and perhaps it was foolish of me to assume your professionalism would overrule your regard for me in the office of your duties, but I can see I was mistaken.”

Gabriel was furious. “As you say,” he answered, turning on his heel and storming out of the barn. 

He stopped at the cottage long enough to pack his bag. He called George from the pasture and set upon the road to Weatherbury. As he approached Little Weatherbury farm it occurred to him that he ought to say goodbye at the very least. 

William answered the door himself. “Gabriel! How good to see you! Are you...going somewhere?” he asked, eyes darting between Gabriel’s bag and his traveling clothes.

“I’m afraid I’ve been dismissed. I’ll be going on to Shottsford.”

“Dismissed! How could she dismiss you? Is it...did she object to your intervention with my flock last night?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No. I...I overstepped. It is unfortunately all too easy for me to forget my place, it seems. Thank you, Mr. Boldwood, for your friendship. I daresay I’ll miss it sorely in the days to come.”

“Gabriel, for God’s sake, don’t go. I’m sure I can find work for you here!”

“I can’t.” Gabriel cut his eyes away. “There’s been...talk, and I wouldn’t expose you to the ridicule. Farewell, my friend,” he said, stepping back, adding after a moment, “I’ll write to you when I am settled.” 

Gabriel all but ran from him lest he be tempted to accept the offer. When the house was no longer in sight behind him he dashed his hand against the wetness on his cheek. He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and found instead the love token. Fresh grief threatened to overtake him before he heard the sound of loud footsteps pounding up the lane behind him. Turning, he saw Joseph Poorgrass.

“You’ve...got to come back,” he panted. “It’s the sheep. They’ve all bloated something terrible.”

Gabriel’s heart was somewhat hardened by the experience of being dismissed. “No.”

“What?” cried Joseph. “But… _all_ of them!”

“Did you come of your own accord or did Miss Everdene send you?”

“Miss...Miss Everdene!”

Gabriel took a deep breath. It was a great temptation to send Joseph back with a demand she ask him back personally, but he doubted the sheep would survive the delay.

Gabriel gestured for Joseph to lead them back. Joseph beamed in triumph and began running in the rangy, awkward manner of boys who’ve not yet adjusted to the length of their legs. Gabriel and George followed apace.

All but one sheep was saved. The entire flock expelled their rumen onto him, and he looked and smelled like the floor of an unmucked barn.

He rather pointedly did _not_ bother to wash before finding Miss Everdene.

“Oh, Gabriel, good Lord,” she said, covering her nose with her handkerchief.

“Shall I be permitted to serve out the remainder of my contract, Miss Everdene?”

“Yes, of course, yes, just please go.”

“Very good, Miss.”

Mr. Boldwood was not in church on Sunday.

After services, Fanny found him on the steps and took his arm. “You’re still here?” She demanded.

“Yes, did you not know that?” With the speed at which gossip traveled in the parish it was inconceivable to him that no one would have thought to share the tale of his dismissal and subsequent rehire about the village. Perhaps his words in the malthouse had found their mark after all.

“ _No_!” she shrilled. “Mr. Boldwood has been in a state since you came by the house,” she added, softer.

Gabriel was immediately aware of his mistake. “Is he well?”

Fanny looked uncertain. “He’s neither ate nor slept. We called for a doctor this morning. He’s...had spells...in the past, every so often, but nothing like this I can recall.”

Gabriel’s heart felt as though it would fall from his chest and shatter. “Take me to him,” he said.

Fanny led him through the back door through the kitchen entrance and up the service stairs to the first floor. She left him outside Boldwood’s bedchamber. Gabriel knocked softly before pushing open the door. “William?” he entreated.

“You’ve returned,” he observed, voice somewhat subdued. “You just missed my doctor,” said William, buttoning his shirt.

Gabriel ducked his head in embarrassment. “Forgive me, I’ll go.”

“No, it’s quite alright. It’s Sunday and you have a standing invitation, after all. In fact, I would very much value your opinion on a matter. It’s a rather poorly held secret that I’ve suffered from melancholia for years now. The occasional black mood takes me from time to time and I tend to lose track of appointments and obligations.”

Gabriel thought of Fanny’s words and nodded his understanding.

“My physician is of the opinion that my disposition would benefit from the acquisition of a wife. I had thought perhaps to court Miss Everdene,” said William, brightly.

Gabriel felt his heart stop in his chest. “Miss Everdene?”

“It was to her you made an offer, was it not?”

No longer assured of his ability to maintain his composure he turned to leave. “I must go,” he said.

“Gabriel wait—”

His hand on the door, he attempted to reassure his friend. “You’re a good man and a good friend, and if it is what you desire, I’ll not stand in your way. I can think of no one more deserving of happiness than yourself.” Not daring to wait for a response, Gabriel ran.

He didn’t remember leaving the house, nor anything else before finding himself at the table in his cottage, the token on the wood grain before him. He glared at it, thought of taking a hammer to the engraving, but was too paralyzed by heartbreak to do ought but clench his hands around the rough hewn edge of the table.

What had he thought, that Boldwood was pining for him? That he would come to him, take him in his arms and confess his love? That they would come to some mutual understanding and live out their days together?

Of _course_ he would marry Bathsheba. It was a sensible match, and combining their holdings would prosper them both. She was the most beautiful woman Gabriel had ever known, and William was the very best person he had ever met and he thought if any two people deserved one another, it was the two of them. 

He wished them both well.

He still felt like dying when his eye caught on the token.

Someone was pounding on the cottage door. “Gabriel! Gabriel please open the door. I must speak with you!”

It was William. Stunned, Gabriel swept the token off the table into his pocket and unlatched the door.

“I have offended you,” he began. “Forgive me.”

“You’re mistaken. There was no offense taken,” he said, stepping aside for the man to enter. 

“I don’t want to marry,” said William and Gabriel thought he would expire from sheer frustration.

“Then _why_?” he demanded.

Boldwood looked lost standing before his hearth. “I thought, perhaps, that it might allow you to stay. She wouldn’t have the power to dismiss you. No one could speak ill of our association if you worked for the both of us. And if you still desired her, I...I would say nothing, that is, you would be free to carry on as you choose, both of you—”

“I’m sorry, _what_?”

“I’ve been alone for so very long, Gabriel. I’m afraid your friendship has become the most important thing in my life and I’m rather desperate to keep it. Here,” he added, unfolding a sheaf of papers from his coat and laying them atop the table. “I’ve taken the liberty of purchasing Nest Cottage. You’ll find the deed is in your name.”

Gabriel was astounded. “You needn’t cuckold yourself to keep my friendship, for heaven’s sake, William! Nor gift me properties! None of it! You earned my respect on your own merit and my friendship is given freely. Do you think me so mercenary as all that?”

“No! No, never, I just didn’t want for your situation to be an impediment to your staying! I have nothing of significance to offer but my fortune, and I give it freely.”

“How can you value yourself so little?” Gabriel asked, horrified.

“Your constancy and loyalty still surprise me, I confess.”

“If so then I can only be sorry for how ill treated you have been. _I don’t love Miss Everdene_ , William. Not for some time, if ever, in truth. I can’t say. She is not the woman I once thought her to be.”

William didn’t meet his eye as he said, “I’m told she’s quite beautiful.”

Gabriel was rather struck by his phrasing and couldn’t help beginning to hope. “Aye, quite beautiful, but there are other qualities I admire far more. Devotion. Kindness. Generosity. She is a good woman, but she is very much her _own_ woman, and I think she should remain so.”

William looked up at him. “Gabriel, what are you saying?”

“I am saying there is no one in this world I love so well as you.”

William looked as if he might shatter in a strong breeze. “You...love me?”

“I do. You want to keep me near?”

“I do,” he breathed. “Always.”

“Do you love me?”

William nodded intently, clenching his fists. “God help me, with all that I am.”

Gabriel stepped forward until they were pressed nearly chest to chest, and he spoke his words softly to the crown of William’s head. “Do you desire me?”

William looked up into his face, trembling. “Yes, oh God, yes.”

“Then _have_ me.”

Gabriel bent down and claimed his lips with his own. William made a desperate, broken sound against his mouth, hands clawing at the air. Gabriel captured them with his own and drew them to his neck. Immediately they found purchase, scratching and stroking, fingers gripping his hair as Gabriel worked to relieve William of his cravat.

William stepped forward, pressing him backwards until his knees found the edge of his bed and he was forced to sit, looking up into the wild eyes of his beloved. William removed his jacket and tie with haste. Cuffs and collar followed before Gabriel’s arms closed around him, pressing his face into William’s stomach before drawing his shirt from his trousers.

“I am...not...experienced,” William warned him.

Gabriel looked up at him as he removed his own waistcoat and shirtsleeves. He nearly threw them across the room but for the memory of the token in his pocket. He carefully laid them beside the bed, lest it become lost. In his distraction he missed William removing his shirt and braces. Gabriel made quick work of their trousers, surging upward as William bent down to kiss him, drawing him against his body as they toppled artlessly onto the bed. 

Gabriel propped himself on his elbow to look down at the man beside him. He carded his fingers through William’s hair. William’s hand caressed his chest and stomach above his drawers. 

“ _God_ , what you do to me,” he gasped as William’s hand began to unfasten his smalls. Gabriel lay upon the bed as William’s mouth kissed and bit at his chest, a trail of fire stretching from neck to groin. “I thought you’d never done this before?”

“Never,” he answered, laving his stomach and blowing across the damp skin. Gabriel shivered.

“I read extensively.”

Gabriel’s laugh was halfway to a whimper as William took his erect sex in hand and began to stroke. “Oh,” he cried. William grinned at him, looking quite satisfied in his accomplishment. “Oh, you, come back here,” he beckoned, pulling at his arm to bring him within reach for a kiss.

They kissed, and they kissed, and smallclothes were lost among the blankets. Gabriel found himself beneath his lover, two hands full of a glorious arse, and William’s damp prick thrusting against his as he made the most wonderous sounds in his ear.

Gabriel came off rutting between William’s thighs, as beautiful a thing as he’d ever felt, William in his arms and crying out his own bliss as they reached crisis. 

Breathes came heavy in the silence following, their heads pillowed together, arms and bodies entwined still. Gabriel tenderly kissed William’s forehead. 

“You’ll stay?”

Gabriel gathered him closer still, tucking William’s dear head beneath his chin. “As long as you’ll have me.”

Gabriel felt William smile into his chest. 

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://ibb.co/94wKbBH) Illustration by [Lery](https://twitter.com/leryavart)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel woke the next morning smiling in memory of the previous evening. George snuffled sleepily at the foot of his bed. The sun was rising in a clear sky. They were mowing hay today, and Gabriel loved the smell of newly mown hay. On his doorstep, he was pleasantly surprised to find a cloth-wrapped bundle of freshly baked bread courtesy of Mrs. Coggan. Gabriel whistled for George and they set out for the day, a spring in both their steps.
> 
> Gabriel’s joy lasted until he reached the farm and found a stranger bailing in his hayfield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [LifeIsTicketyBoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeIsTicketyBoo) and [NYC_Utopia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NYC_Utopia) for beta reading!

“Won’t they be missing you soon?” Gabriel asked. William was snugged into his side, playing with the hair on Gabriel’s chest. 

He sighed. “I suppose so. Likely they’ll think I’ve done something drastic if I don’t return tonight.”

Gabriel shifted until he could bring both arms around him. As much disposed as he was to practicality, he was not the sort of man to eagerly dismiss a lover from his bed. “When will I see you again?” he asked, pressing a kiss into the top of William’s head.

“Soon, I hope. This is all rather beyond my wildest imaginings. We’ll have to give some consideration to the matter.”

“I’m very glad to hear you say it.”

William sat up and looked down at him with apparent incredulity. “Did you think I came here for a brief tryst only?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No. It’s not in your nature to be anything less than devoted once you’ve set your mind to a course.”

William ducked his head and blushed. “Is that a fault or a virtue, I wonder?”

“I think it is you,” said Gabriel, leaning up and tenderly kissing the neck of his beloved. “Before you return, however, there is a matter I wish to discuss with you.”

“Of course.”

Gabriel sat up, scrubbing a hand through hair as he swung his legs over the bed onto the floor. “I will not be bought and kept. I may not be a gentleman, but I have my pride. I know you meant well, but whatever understanding we have, I need you to respect my wishes in this.”

William sat beside him on the bed and looked horror-struck at the statement. “Gabriel, you must forgive me, I hadn’t considered how it might have appeared to you—”

“I know.”

“—please understand it was never my intent. It is only... I have not felt so strongly in a very long time, and it... it terrifies me.”

William’s hands shook in agitation and Gabriel felt monstrous for causing him such distress. “It’s all right,” he said, quieting William’s hands with his own.

“It isn’t,” said William, almost to himself. “I must be completely honest with you. You recall I told you I was once... disappointed, yes?” Gabriel noted that he very pointedly did not use the word _jilted_. William’s breaths were harsh and quick. “The man for whom Elsabeth left me was my best friend. Does any of the parish gossip mention that?”

“If it does, I’m not privy to it. That’s horrible.”

“We went to school together. We were the only two boys from Wessex in our year. His family owned quite a large estate about six miles Northwest of Weatherbury. They were very well known for their dairy herds, though that’s not particularly important…” he trailed off, evidently discomfited by the recollection.

“We were inseparable,” William continued. “And what we shared... I should confess I have not been... unaware... of my predisposition toward such affections as these. In truth, I _was_ fond of Elsabeth. She was a vivacious girl, quite well read and I was looking forward to being her husband, but... John had my heart and always had. It wasn’t until I received her letter informing me that she and John had eloped that I knew they had fallen in love. I never saw either of them again. Given my nature I committed myself to bachelorhood rather than attempt any such arrangement again, which, to my mind, could only lead to heartbreak and ruin.

“I’ve thought about them quite often, over the years. I’ve driven myself to distraction thinking of how I might have improved the outcome of our association. What I could have done differently to not lose everyone of importance to me...”

“What could you have possibly done?” Gabriel asked, mouth agape in unbelief.

William shook his head as if to dislodge a persistent fly from buzzing about his ears. “I wrote them letters. Dozens of them. I was... I was furious.”

“Understandably, I think.”

“They never replied. Not to a single letter. And then I became quite melancholy about things. I asked _why_. They never replied to those letters either. I... I lost my pride. I lost my dignity. I begged them to return. I assured them I bore them no ill will. I offered land, properties. I offered my own living if only they would let me share in the smallest scrap of their affections and not leave me so alone. They never responded.”

He was shaking almost violently now with the memory. Gabriel pulled William into his arms and he settled against him, his voice hushed as he continued.

“I tried to end my life twice. My poor sister was at her wits end. Finally she told me she would send me to Bedlam for my own sake if I didn’t cease. She reminded me of my responsibility to her, to my living and those in my employ. For her sake, I stopped. I vowed celibacy then and there, and I had been successful in keeping that vow for the past twenty years.”

“Until now.”

“Until a handsome young shepherd claimed to send me a valentine, yes. I never meant for you to feel as though I intended to buy your affections. Forgive me. I only feared losing you. Rather desperately.”

“You’re forgiven,” said Gabriel. Something in William’s phrasing suddenly struck him. “Wait, you knew the card wasn’t mine?”

William rose from their embrace to fix Gabriel with a pitying look. “Your penmanship is really quite distinctive. I... also may have kept all your correspondence to read when I felt lonely, which was... not infrequent. Not that it mattered one whit that the valentine did not originate with you. That you would show such loyalty to your mistress to risk such a thing, and to spare me my feelings, well. I was already quite taken with you, you must know.”

Gabriel grinned. “You were, were you?”

“I was. _Embarrassingly_ so. You turning up at my doorway like an avenging knight to quest after a damsel in distress? Very dashing. And after...well. That day you came to Little Weatherbury with the lambs for my ewes…”

“Is that why you were watching me? I thought I’d offended you!”

“Hardly. I was quite... overcome... by the sight of you.”

Gabriel couldn’t let that pass without remark. He grinned, and wrapped himself around his lover, one arm around his stomach and the other around his chest. “How overcome?” he asked, trailing kisses up and down his neck and shoulder. “Did you have to excuse yourself?”

“Yes,” William sighed, bending his head for better access. “I did.”

“And when you were alone, did you touch yourself?”

“Yes,” he whispered. 

Gabriel’s hand found the hardening prick in question and began stroking. “And thought of me while you did it?”

“Yes!” William growled, panting into Gabriel’s arm as his hand worked between William’s legs. “Yes, yes, yes,” he groaned, spilling over Gabriel’s hand. 

William, with surprising strength, turned and bore him down to the bed with a wild look in his eye, kissing him deeply. “Does it please you to know that I was hard at the sight of you half naked and dripping wet? You looked like my every erotic imagining brought to life. I barely had time to take my trousers down when I reached my chambers.”

Gabriel moaned as William began working him, his strong hands pulling and stroking with fevered determination.

“You’re mine now, beloved, my own. I was content before I saw you. Chaste. Look what you do to me. How you’ve ruined me. I won’t have anyone but you, my love. You’ve spoiled me forever.”

“Oh...God!” Gabriel cried out, pulsing wetly over William’s fingers. A moment later he was laughing, almost helplessly.

“Are you laughing at me?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No. Never. I’m laughing at myself. That I could ever suppose I could be satisfied with anyone but you.”

“What I told you... Do you think me terribly pathetic?”

Gabriel was adamant. “No. If anything, I am furious on your behalf. That you should have been made to suffer such cruelty is unconscionable.”

William looked up into the dim afternoon light as it faded to evening. “It is in the past now.”

Gabriel turned to look at him. “Is it?”

“Of course it is. I have you, now, haven’t I?”

Gabriel gathered his words to himself, looking for the ones least likely to cause injury. “You do have me. I won’t be parted from you if I can help it, but nor do I want you to pine away if I should leave.”

William stilled. “Are you leaving?”

“It’s not in my plans, but you know this life as well as I. Nothing is sure.”

“You won’t consider the bailiff position, then?” William asked, his disappointment palpable.

Gabriel shook his head fondly. “What need do you have for a bailiff?”

“I could retire,” William grasped.

Gabriel fixed him with a dry look. “At forty.”

“Forty-one, thank you.”

“Well that makes all the difference, I suppose.”

“You’ll understand when you get to be my age.”

Gabriel playfully hit him with the pillow at hand, then pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s not a marriage,” explained William, “but I have lost much in my life, and I would bind you to me with all that can. The best I can manage is an offer of employment. Will you accept?”

“Nothing is sure in life, but, in my experience, a living is a far more fragile thing to put faith in than love.” 

William stiffened. “Forgive me, it is difficult to believe you would stay with me without reason or propelling circumstance.”

“Not without reason,” said Gabriel. He wanted to offer assurance, but he’d committed himself to Everdene Farm. He was a bailiff in all but name there; he couldn’t fathom how Bathsheba could manage in his absence. “I can’t accept, William, please forgive me. Could you be satisfied living as we are?”

William stroked his hand across Gabriel’s chest. “It’s a good deal more than I’ve ever had. I shall try.”

Gabriel captured his hand and kissed it. Please believe there isn’t a cottage, living or any large sum worth what I already have in you.”

William buried his face in Gabriel’s shoulder and he let him, holding him a long while until his breathing evened and his manner calmed. Eventually the cottage was cast all in shadow, the hour threatening dusk with every passing moment. Gabriel helped William dress, and then himself, the token in his pocket clattering to the floor in his haste to don his waistcoat.

William picked it up and turned it over between his fingers. He smiled as he traced the engraving. “For my part, it wasn’t a joke,” he said, handing it back to Gabriel.

Gabriel took it and reverently placed it back in his waistcoat pocket. “I hoped,” he said.

William nodded and after an awkward moment, darted forward and pecked Gabriel’s cheek as if he’d not been touching him intimately only a short while ago. It was charming, and Gabriel couldn’t resist returning the kiss with fervor. “You should go. Before I’m tempted to do more than kiss you.”

William ducked his head and blushed. “You might almost convince me of my desirability.”

Gabriel scoffed. “If you require convincing yet, I’ve clearly made a poor showing, but I’m very happy to provide further demonstration.”

“I look forward to it.”

William disappeared over the hill, walking his horse beside him through the mist that had begun to fall over the valley. 

There was little time to make good on such promises in the coming days as it was nearly shearing time and Gabriel’s hours were spent preparing the shears and barn as well as finding additional men for the task. Miss Everdene had suggested, and Gabriel had agreed, that perhaps by coordinating their shearing with the shepherds at Little Weatherbury, both farms might double their numbers when they were most needed with the least amount of difficulty. He had no doubt that such a proposition would be welcomed by Mr. Boldwood. Nevertheless, he suggested to Miss Everdene she might extend the invitation to the sheep shearing dinner to Little Weatherbury as incentive. 

Now he stood in the kitchen of Little Weatherbury on the morning of the eve of the Everdene shearing, ostensibly to speak to the shepherd, but mostly to bother Fanny Robin while she arranged wreaths and pots of heather, daisies, and cornflowers to adorn the Everdene table. 

“It won’t be much longer now before I’m showing for certain,” said Fanny. “Mr. Boldwood thinks I ought to go into seclusion after the party so no one suspects.”

Gabriel thought that sounded like a sensible idea. “Have you told anyone else?”

“Mrs. Selwyn knows. I think Turner may, but he’d never say anything. They’ve been very kind. I don’t see the other staff but in passing most of the time, so as long as I stay out of the way it should be all right.”

“The midwife?” he asked, knowing her by reputation to be a particularly vicious gossip.

Fanny shook her head. “I couldn’t bear it. You know how she is.”

Gabriel frowned. “I do. Let me think on it. I may be able to find help for you.”

Her face glowed. “Oh, would you! I can’t tell you how grateful I’d be.”

“What of the child?” He asked.

Fanny’s eyes cut to the bouquet she was currently arranging, and fingered the stem of a cornflower. “Mr. Boldwood said he’d help find a family.”

“I'm sure it’s for the best, Fanny.”

“I know. But for all that I despise him now, I did love Frank once. I dreamed for so long we could be a family.”

Gabriel lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You have a family, Fanny.”

“I certainly feel like I have a brother,” she said, covering his hand with her own. “You’re sure they won’t suspect? Maybe I shouldn’t go to the party.”

“Have you spoken to anyone since you left?”

Fanny twisted two stems together, cursing softly when they broke under the strain. “Miss Everdene may be ever so cross with me still. I’ve been avoidin’ the farm, but I do want to make amends in case it all goes wrong.” 

“Fanny...”

Fanny tossed the broken flowers onto the table in frustration. “I mean to make my apologies, Gabriel. Who knows if I’ll see any of them again.”

“Don’t talk like that. You’ll be just fine. I’m sure you’ve been missed.”

“It’s so humiliating,” she confessed. “I left to marry, and came home without a husband.”

Gabriel looked heavenward for strength. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Go on then.”

“I proposed to Miss Everdene. Last year. In Norcombe.”

“You didn’t! What did she say!”

Gabriel threw up his hands. “No, of course! So if you think it’s difficult for you, think of me, and put it out of your head.”

Fanny’s laughter was not at all comforting, despite Gabriel’s intention to put her at ease. “But what about Mr. Boldwood?”

“He never proposed to her.”

Fanny shook her head. “No, I mean what about _you_ and Mr. Boldwood?”

Shocked and more than a little fearful of being overheard, Gabriel took her arm and steered her into the butler’s pantry. “What is it you think you know, Fanny Robin?”

“I meant no harm, Gabriel. Honestly. Just foolishness.” Her eyes had no talent for lying.

“Out with it then.”

“You’re sweethearts, aren’t you?”

Gabriel froze.

“Nevermind. I won’t make you deny it. I know you are. I saw the way you held him. I saw the fear in your eyes when I told you how grieved he was to lose you. If Frank loved me half as well as you love him, I’d be a married woman.”

“Fanny…”

“It’s all right, Gabriel. I won’t say a word.”

“It would ruin him, Fanny. I can’t let that happen.” He’d been foolish and careless, but neither could he deny himself the comfort of a confidant now that he’d found one. “Can I ask you something?

“O’ course.”

“How close did I come to losing him?”

Fanny looked sad. “Not as close as you might have. He was determined to bring you back. I think that hope was his salvation.”

Gabriel’s heart sank to hear it. “Am I doing him more harm than good, Fanny?”

“Oh, no!” she said. “No! He’s always been a man of deep feeling. Mr. Boldwood was so stern when I met him he terrified me, but he was kinder to me than my own mother. He had just married off his sister, you see, and I think he was lonely. Back then he still had these terrible spells. He’d not leave his room, he’d just stare out the window day and night. I did my best for him. We all did, of course. After he found me the position with Farmer Everdene I didn’t see him as much as I’d have liked, but he still checked on me from time to time. I think he loves me in his way, and he doesn’t love by halves. I don’t know how he forgave me running off after what he suffered—”

Gabriel was shocked. “You know about that?”

“Some,” admitted Fanny. “I suspected a bit more than most, maybe. I know he was very close to the both of them before they ran off together. But I’ve never seen him the way he is with you. Not ever. You don’t know…” Fanny broke off, her voice cracking with tears. “Gabriel Oak, you make him _happy_. Truly happy for maybe the first time in his life. I wouldn’t do anything to spoil that.”

Gabriel embraced the girl. He could trust in such an assurance. 

“Thank you,” he said.

Shearing four-hundred sheep was no small feat, but with the extra hands, they managed the entire flock in ten hours. By four o’clock all were back home resting and making their preparations for the dinner. Gabriel took special care to bathe thoroughly and while he didn’t wear his best clothes, they were clean and well presented. 

He met Fanny as she was coming up the lane and offered his arm to her. She laughed charmingly and they entered the house together.

“Gabriel! Fanny! Welcome!” Miss Everdene was beautiful as always, but the fact of it was beginning to become somewhat less arresting to Gabriel who now dreamed exclusively of warm eyes lined deeply with joys and sorrows. He suspected the sort of feelings which would leave an impression upon Miss Everdene’s face were yet before her.

“Miss Everdene, I wondered if we might have a brief word?” asked Gabriel.

Fanny looked sharply at Gabriel. To Miss Everdene’s credit, she didn’t hesitate one moment. “Of course. Please, step into the parlor,” she invited.

After making sure there were no ears within hearing distance of the door, Gabriel turned to the two women. “Miss Everdene, I recall that you occasionally assisted the midwife in Norcombe.”

Both women regarded one another with sudden understanding. “I did, yes,” she said. “Forgive me, are you in need of a midwife, Fanny?”

Fanny nodded miserably. “I am, Miss. There’s a woman in Weatherbury, o’course, but she’s a terrible gossip and I’m afraid the news would be across the parish before the babe’s taken it’s first breath.”

Miss Everdene looked stern at that pronouncement. “I understand. I am not such a gossip and I will not betray your situation to anyone. I think it’s a dreadfully unfair business and I won’t make it more difficult than it already is.”

“Oh, thank you Miss! Thank you so much!”

With that bit of business managed, Gabriel felt at ease to join the party, and a spectacular party it was. The food was magnificent, the company jovial and the ale plentiful. With Fanny and Miss Everdene now reconciled by a common purpose, Fanny was feted as the prodigal daughter by all and sundry.

It would have been a perfect night, but William had not yet come. Gabriel worked very hard at not watching the doorway for any sign of movement. Eventually the dishes were cleared and some of the men began bringing out their pipes. Gabriel schooled his face not to show his disappointment.

“A song!” cried Liddy, and already Joseph Poorgrass was rising to the challenge, awkwardly singing to the combined amusement of the ladies and jeers of the men. If Liddy Smallbury had asked for the stars, Gabriel suspected Joseph would have been halfway to the moon already.

Jan Coggan stood next and began a mournful ballad. “You’ll play, won’t you Gabriel?” asked Fanny.

Gabriel shook his head.

“Oh, but you must,” she insisted, adding under her voice, “He’ll be along. He doesn’t know how to manage in such a crowd as this, but he’ll be here, just you wait and see.”

Gabriel schooled his expression. “If I play, you’ll sing, yes?”

Fanny grinned and took his hand. “Of _course_.”

As if summoned by his capitulation, William suddenly appeared in the doorway in a new waistcoat and cravat. Gabriel could have swooned like a maiden at the sight, but settled for rising steadily from the head of the table to make room for their guest. He was quite proud of himself for neither tripping over his feet in excitement nor spilling his ale down Fanny’s front as he settled on her other side.

Jan finished his song and soon there were calls for Miss Everdene to sing. She had a high, sweet voice, and favored them with a verse and chorus of Annan Water. She was beguiling as she sang, but Gabriel had no more appreciation for the sound of her voice than of the choir at church, and that thought, more than anything else, told him he was well and truly out of love with her.

“Come on, Gabriel, it’s our turn,” said Fanny. Gabriel could feel William’s eyes on them and immediately knew which song he wanted to play for him. A moment later he had shared it with Fanny who smiled as she stood to sing, and as the first few notes of his flute rang out William, as he’d hoped, did not look away.

_Oh, fare you well, my own true love  
Oh, fare you well for a while  
I’m going away, but I’ll come again  
If I go ten thousand miles_

_The crow that is so black, my love  
Will surely turn to white  
If I ever prove false to the one I love  
Bright day shall turn to night_

_Bright day shall turn to night, my love  
And the rocks shall melt with the sun  
And the fire will freeze and will be no more  
And the raging sea will burn_

_Oh, don’t you see yon white turtle dove  
Skipping from vine to vine  
It’s mourning the loss of it’s own true love  
Just as I will mourn for mine_

_Oh, fare you well, my own true love  
Oh, fare you well for a while  
I’m going away, but I’ll come again  
If I go ten thousand miles_

It was a deeply sentimental song, and its effect on the party was profound. Husbands and wives leaned together, sweethearts drew close to one another, and those without a love of their own grew wistful.

It was hardly surprising that many chose to take themselves off home after.

Gabriel begged leave on the excuse that he’d planned to have the keeping of the flock that night so the other shepherds could enjoy their evening to the fullest, which was true. He hoped William would eventually find him in the pasture, but he’d not expected him to rise as well and so soon after his arrival.

“Forgive me Miss Everdene, but I fear I was only able to break away for a short while. A rather urgent matter came up this afternoon that yet requires my attention.”

“Oh, Mr. Boldwood don’t think anything of it, we were glad to have you,” she said.

She pressed William’s hand in hers, and as Gabriel donned his hat he found him at his elbow. 

“Shall we?” he asked.

“After you,” said Gabriel and together they set off down the path through the woods that bordered the pasture.

“Isn’t it a beautiful night?” asked William.

Gabriel could hardly believe the respectable man capable of such impetuousness. “It is. Are you sure it was wise, our leaving together?”

William kicked a stone off of the path. “You saw them all paired up at the end. I doubt anyone paid us any mind. Poor Joseph. I can’t imagine what Liddy has planned for him.”

Gabriel couldn’t help worrying. “If someone should see us—”

“I can hardly see my hand before my face, we won’t be seen. Wait, listen—” There was a sound like footsteps across the way which then turned and seemed to stumble their way a distance further on before quieting. “Nevermind. You told me once I was welcome in your fields. I’m fully aware that we cannot carry on as other courting couples do, Gabriel, but I’m only flesh and blood, and I’m capable of being moved. I showed restraint enough in not kissing you for that song, I think, can you also expect me to walk away from you in apparent indifference?”

Gabriel was pleased that his song had found its mark. “Not seriously, no,” he admitted. “You are welcome wherever I am, always. I’m sorry. I’ve had much on my mind,” said Gabriel, stepping carefully along the wooded path. That Fanny had surmised their secret so easily sat uneasily with him, but Gabriel was hardly about to chastise William for indiscretion. He was new to being loved, was all. “I suppose I’m still surprised myself that I can inspire such feeling in anyone, let alone someone I esteem as highly as I do yourself.”

“You’re rather frighteningly charming, do you know that?” William quipped.

Gabriel laughed. “I’ve been told, once or twice.”

“Believe it,” he said. “I do understand how you feel, Gabriel. Happiness can be a frightening thing when you’ve lost so much,” said William, seriously.

“That’s exactly it, but I suspect it shouldn’t be so.”

“I agree. I’m... endeavoring to be brave.”

Gabriel dared to take William’s hand. “I think you’ll have difficulty convincing me you’ve ever been anything else.”

William scoffed. “Now you really need to stop that or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“I’ve actually given quite a lot of thought to the matter of your bravery lately,” Gabriel turned to address him directly. “I’ve decided not to renew my contract with Miss Everdene.”

If Gabriel had expected happy surprise from William, he should have recalled his propensity for self-correction. A single rejection begat twenty years of solitude. Gabriel’s recanted refusal only resulted in a head shaken in firm denial. “That position is your independence. I’d not meant to deprive you of your freedom. I can have faith.”

“I know you can, but you were right in what you said. I’ve found my life’s companion and I mean to keep him however I may. If you’ll still have me as your bailiff, that is.”

Such an irrefutable declaration was evidently too much to be borne. William immediately took him by the shirtfront and crushed his mouth to Gabriel’s. His thigh insinuated itself between Gabriel’s legs and he felt himself being walked backwards off the path until his back met a sturdy tree. Gabriel returned the kiss, fisting his hands in Williams jacket as he thrust against the thigh between his legs. 

William pulled away and Gabriel was left bereft. “No...what?”

William dropped to his knees among the leaves and caressed the placket of Gabriel’s trousers with one hand while deftly unfastening them with the other.

“Oh, god,” Gabriel cried out, feeling the strong hand of his lover stroking his cock through his smallclothes. Before he could brace himself, William had withdrawn him from his smalls and swallowed him to the root.

“Christ! Unh...William…” 

William sucked him like a man possessed of a single purpose. Gabriel ran his fingers through the soft, thick, curls of hair that haloed his lover. William’s eyes were closed, a slight furrow between his brows as if in reverent contemplation as he bobbed on Gabriel’s prick, lips wet and tight upon him. Gabriel saw with amazement his other hand busy between his own legs, apparently moved to action by Gabriel’s own pleasure. “Ah!” He cried out, spending in long, thick pulses down William’s throat as William hummed and moaned around his length, his own seed dappling the forest floor as he thrust into his own hand.

Gabriel grabbed at William’s coat, bringing him off his knees to pull him into his arms and kiss him. “Is that a yes, then?”

“It is,” said William.

A moment later, after straightening their clothes, they resumed walking down the path. From a nearby copse some way off came the distinct sounds of another couple enjoying their evening in similar fashion. William and Gabriel laughed and took bets on which of the maids would be leaving to marry in the new year, but privately Gabriel still warred internally between necessary discretion and encouragement of William’s eagerness. For all that he had no personal moral confusion, he had no interest in becoming a public scandal.

The sky opened up before them as they emerged from the woods into the pasture, and George ran to greet them before returning diligently to the flock. 

Gabriel settled himself down upon the hill and William was quick to join him, leaning gently against Gabriel’s shoulder. After a moment, Gabriel silently took his hand in his as they listened to the night come alive around them. William raised their joined hands to his lips and brushed a kiss across his fingers.

There was no real hope of curbing such affection so sweetly given. He too was only a man, after all, and should they both be ruined and Gabriel have only the memory of that night to carry him to his grave, he would die a happy one, Gabriel thought, looking at the soft expression in profile of his love at peace. 

_A happy man, indeed._

Gabriel woke the next morning smiling in memory of the previous evening. George snuffled sleepily at the foot of his bed. The sun was rising in a clear sky. They were mowing hay today, and Gabriel loved the smell of newly mown hay. On his doorstep, he was pleasantly surprised to find a cloth-wrapped bundle of freshly baked bread courtesy of Mrs. Coggan. Gabriel whistled for George and they set out for the day, a spring in both their steps.

Gabriel’s joy lasted until he reached the farm and found a stranger bailing in his hayfield.

“Who is he?” he asked Jan Coggan.

Jan looked disapproving. “That would be Sergeant Troy,” he said.

Gabriel felt white-hot rage course through his blood. “It isn’t,” he said, incredulous that he would dare show his face upon the farm.

“The very same. He showed up this morning.”

Gabriel threw his fork into a pile of mown hay and set off for the Everdene house at speed.

After a rather tense conversation, Gabriel was pleased to see his mistress confront the man and send him off. 

Weeks passed, the oats were brought in and Frank Troy was gone from the fields, which pleased Gabriel. There was a harvest to bring in and no time to be running off rakes and ne’er do wells.

The trouble was that Bathsheba had disappeared as well. Her hours had become unpredictable and few, and Liddy was fretful, which concerned Gabriel most of all. By the middle of July, she had disappeared altogether with no word to anyone. The only sure sign she had gone was the missing horse and trap.

Gabriel did what he could, arriving early and staying late, directing the men and overseeing the farm to the best of his ability. But it wouldn’t be long before the lack of a mistress would become obvious and the men would begin looking for work elsewhere.

Finally, on the first of August a shout rose up from the field. “She’s back!” cried Liddy.

A carriage came down the lane, though Miss Everdene wasn’t driving. 

“Oh, Lord above,” muttered Jan Coggan. “They must have married. That’s this farm done for.”

It was Sergeant Troy.

Gabriel fought with himself. It was hardly his place to say anything, but he considered Bathsheba a friend, and the thought of Fanny’s poor state when he found her in Casterbridge filled him with unassailable loathing for Troy.

He found her in the yard overseeing the men building the new hayricks. “Mrs. Troy, may I have a word?”

She blushed which told him a good deal, and gestured for him to follow her to the barn. When they were quite alone, she told him “I’m terribly busy, Gabriel, what is it?”

“You’ve married,” he confirmed.

“Yes, I have.”

Gabriel bit his tongue. “It could yet be annulled if you claim he married you under false pretenses.”

Bathsheba’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Mr. Oak, how dare you! I assure you I entered into this marriage willingly and with both eyes open.”

Gabriel couldn’t conceive of it. “How could you have? He’s a scoundrel if you ask anyone who knows him. You could hardly know him at all in the short time you’ve been acquainted!”

Her eyes narrowed. “Unlike you, I suppose?”

Gabriel seethed with frustration. “This isn’t about my suit. Have I made one single advance in your employ? Have I given you any indication of jealousy?”

“Until now, you mean?”

“Bathsheba—”

“ _Mrs. Troy_ , if you please.”

“—I mean only to advise you in the best interest of this farm and your living, and I’m telling you, this man cannot be trusted.”

“And what is your reason? Do you have one single shred of evidence that isn’t strictly rumor and hearsay?”

“I cannot share it.”

“Then there is nothing and you are being horribly unfair.”

“There is a confidence I will not betray.”

“Very convenient,” she said. “Very well. You may have this month's pay and next. I expect you to leave at once. Since you find yourself so very opposed to the master of this farm, I don’t expect we’ll have need of your services.”

Gabriel was heartsick. “Please reconsider.”

“Gabriel Oak, get out!”

His second leaving of Everdene Farm was a slower thing. Nest Cottage remained in his possession and there was no question of his welcome at Little Weatherbury. He took his time to give his thanks to Joseph Poorgrass, William Smallbury and Jan Coggan. To kiss Liddy’s cheek and clasp Mark Clark’s hand. There was no doubt in their minds where he would go, nor that it would suit him far better to bailiff for Mr. Boldwood than to shepherd in name only for Mrs. Troy while serving as bailiff with no share and no recognition. For all that he was a simple man, he knew his value.

The walk across the meadow felt far less like a funeral march than a homecoming, and indeed, word had traveled quickly. William waited for him at the gate.

“You tried.”

“I tried.”

“Then I suppose we’ve done all we can. Come to my study, Bailiff Oak, and we’ll draw up the agreement if that suits?”

“Certainly, Mr. Boldwood.”

The contract had already been drafted and laid upon the table. Gabriel chose not to mention that fact as he looked it over and read the incredibly generous terms of employment.

“I see there are terms here providing for an agent for the sale of the cottage. I know what I said on the subject when it was first presented, but I’ve given it some further thought, and I mean to keep the cottage and the acreage. I hadn’t planned on broaching the subject just yet, given I hadn’t expected to end my employment at Everdene this soon, but I had begun to think of employing it in a future partnership between us.”

“A partnership? You are ambitious!”

Gabriel stood his ground. “Merely confident in my abilities. You’re a shrewd man in business, so I’ll ask that you consider my offer without passion.”

“Very well, I’m listening.”

“I’ve not had time to consider every detail of course, but I was thinking about how few of the agricultural innovations made each year are implemented because the cost is rarely worth the risk of failure. Imagine then, if we set aside one hundred or so acres purely for experimentation?” 

William shook his head. “The cost of maintaining it to a separate standard…”

“Would be null, because it would be under my supervision exclusively. My acreage for better or worse. If it brings in a bounty, you’ll share in half of it. If it comes to nothing, there is no loss to you for the cost will come from my own share as bailiff.”

“You’ve given this some thought.”

“I have, sir.”

William smiled. “I’m going to amend the contract. I think your idea has merit. We’ll take it on trial for a year and see how it goes. If we’re both satisfied, we’ll continue, though I insist on sharing any losses. If any major innovations are made, we’ll implement them broadly for one year then publish our findings for a fee to others. What say you?”

Gabriel offered his hand. “I say we’re in agreement.”

The evening grew late. The ink was dry on the contract, and both men laughed into their brandy as they leaned quite close to one another on the settee.

“Can I pour you another?” asked William.

“I’m not accustomed to strong drink,” said Gabriel. “Any more and I’ll be useless to you.”

William made a rude noise and a dismissive gesture. “Nonsense,” he said. “Just take your trousers down, I’m sure I can manage the rest.”

Gabriel laughed so loudly he feared Turner, or worse, Fanny, would walk in at any moment to discover who was causing a disturbance. “Such talk from a gentleman,” said Gabriel.

“Known many gentlemen, have you?”

“None as well as you.”

“I’m gratified to hear it. I’d have to wonder at your character.”

“My character is easily scandalized, apparently.”

William smiled in great satisfaction, and reached over to pat Gabriel’s knee fondly. “Levels the playing field,” he overannunciated, looking quite pleased with himself for not slurring his words.

Gabriel couldn’t help but kiss him. He was so painfully beautiful, red-cheeked with brandy, eyes sparkling in the firelight. He cupped his bearded face tenderly and pressed his weathered lips to his.

William moaned into the kiss. He always seemed surprised by the gesture, as if he couldn't quite believe his good fortune, then grasped at it as if he feared it being taken away once he had it. 

Perhaps he did. Gabriel meant to give him no cause for fear or doubt. He deepened the kiss, pressing William back into the settee, holding him tightly in his arms.

William, however, retreated.

“Was I mistaken?”

“No. I daresay you were not. It is late. Will you stay?”

Gabriel smiled softly. “Of course,” he said. “Take me to bed.”

William looked as though he was containing his excitement with only the barest restraint. “Fanny is undoubtedly asleep at this hour, poor thing. Mrs. Selwyn has long since gone home. Turner...may have his suspicions, and avoid us. He made a great deal of noise about being exceptionally busy this evening…”

Gabriel wanted to be concerned, but the brandy was making it difficult. “Your room, William.”

“Yes! Of course,” he said, leading Gabriel by the hand as if they were two young sweethearts sneaking out of their homes to share a passionate assignation.

William’s bedroom looked different by the light of intent. The large mahogany four-poster was laid with a dark blue spread which had been turned down for the evening.

On both sides. 

Perhaps taking Gabriel’s hesitation on the threshold for reticence, William said, “I expect nothing of you, of course. We could sleep only, or, if you prefer, there are rooms available for your use down the hall.”

Naturally, that sort of talk wouldn’t do at all. Gabriel seized him by the arms and drew him into a kiss before he could continue. “Thank you, but no,” said Gabriel. “I believe I’m right where I want to be.”

They undressed hurriedly, breaking kisses only when necessity demanded. Before long they had moved to the bed, settling under the covers together. 

There was something of the wedding night about this moment, Gabriel thought. This was not his bed, nor a frantic coupling in the woods. This was the bed of his beloved, his companion, his helpmeet. This would become their bed for all intents and purposes after this night.

“How would you have me,” he asked, caressing his lover’s side beneath the sheet. He was always slightly surprised to find his skin so soft, still, perhaps, somehow expecting to feel tweeds and woolens under his hand.

William looked on him fondly and stroked Gabriel’s bearded cheek. “However you like.”

Gabriel captured his hand and kissed the palm. “That isn’t what I asked. Tell me what it is you dream about in this bed alone, and I shall try and fulfill it.”

William expelled a breath. “You may not like it and I’ve no wish to put you off. Not when I finally have you here.”

Gabriel smiled. “Well now I simply must know.”

William blushed charmingly. “Very well. And if I asked you to…”

He whispered the rest into Gabriel’s ear. His breath was warm against his ear, and Gabriel took advantage of his position to turn his head and capture his lips in a kiss when he’d finished enumerating his desires.

“It’s illegal, you know.”

“Well the constable isn’t invited, if that wasn’t already clear.”

Gabriel discovered William was ticklish in several sensitive areas. “Just so we understand one another.”

William looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I read about the practice as a young man, and at the time it never particularly inflamed me, but I find since I’ve met you, I often think about what it would be like to be held by you, to hold you inside me… I confess I’ve experimented…”

Gabriel’s mouth went dry. “You have?”

William nodded. “I liked it. Very much. But best of all when I imagined it was you.”

There was little Gabriel could say in argument to that. “I’ve never done it but I’ve heard… the men, you know… anyway, we’ll need something slick. Oil, or something. Have you any macassar or the like?”

“In the bedside cabinet.”

“It’s hardly doing your hair any favors in there.”

“It was never equal to the task. It’s far more useful where it is.”

Though humor had dispelled some of the attendant anxiety, he was soon faced with a bottle of oil and a naked lover and some expectation of facility with both where he had none.

“How...that is, where, I mean… oh, bugger it.”

“That is the general idea I believe.”

Gabriel broke down into helpless laughter. William took pity on him at last. “On your side, behind me, if you would,” he directed. Gabriel noted that neither of them were aroused any longer, but hoped they could rectify the situation before it became pathetic. “Pour a little out into my hand, please,” William asked. 

Gabriel did. William took a fortifying breath and glanced back at him before applying his fingers to a rather intimate task. His breath shuddered out all at once, though whether in pleasure or pain Gabriel couldn’t discern from looking, and Gabriel was looking.

As his fingers penetrated his fundament Gabriel watched the play of expressions across William’s face, concentration, then something transported. His pleasure, and it couldn’t be mistaken for anything else now, was beautiful to behold. There was no self-consciousness as he now worked two fingers inside himself, short pants of breath and low moans mixed, a religious drone to accompany this sacred trust. Gabriel was rampant now and found himself echoing his lover’s sounds entirely untouched.

William’s eyes fixed upon his, over his shoulder. “Now, love, please,” he demanded, breathless.

Gabriel leapt to action, quickly applying the oil to himself with a bitten-off cry of pleasure before centering himself at his beloved’s core.

The first thrust was revelatory. Profound. Gabriel was fully embraced by William’s body as he wrapped around his lover from behind. William thrust back upon him and Gabriel couldn’t help the sound that issued from his mouth.

William continued to drive the pace onward and Gabriel was not about to deny him. He gripped William’s hip firmly and began to add force to his thrusts. William clasped his hand upon his hip and moaned deeply. Gabriel adjusted his position for a bit more leverage and William fairly shouted. 

“Yes, there! Oh, God!”

Gabriel felt as though his skin was electrified. “William,” he groaned. “Oh, love.”

“Please, ungh, yes! Oh, I love you…”

Gabriel kissed his back, dewed with sweat now. “Touch yourself,” he directed. “I won’t last. Come for me, love.”

William’s hand left his to strip himself furiously as Gabriel fairly pounded into him. His climax came upon him quickly. Gabriel buried his face in William’s back as he spilled himself thoroughly in the tight confines of his lover’s body. William cried out a moment later, his own crisis found. 

For a long moment neither man moved, panting into the dark and quiet of the room.

William wiped his hand on the sheet then turned, meeting Gabriel’s eyes with a broken expression. “I love you so,” he said. 

Gabriel kissed his forehead tenderly, then brought his hands to his lips to kiss. “Was it everything you wished?”

“More,” said William quickly. “So much more, I never…” his voice trailed off but Gabriel thought he understood his meaning well enough. He gathered William close and both fell into an exhausted but untroubled sleep.

Some time later, Gabriel awoke, chilled by the cooling sweat upon his body. William shivered in his sleep and Gabriel took care not to wake him as he drew the blanket and counterpain up and around his shoulders

Moonlight spilled across the pillow onto William’s cheek. His face was unlined and peaceful in repose. A rare sight, indeed. Gabriel tried not to disturb him as he found the basin and washed his hands and face. He’d only glanced in the mirror when a flash of something in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

On the marble topped table was a new toilet chest in beautiful burled walnut with brass fittings. Gabriel quietly unlatched the fastening and lifted the lid. Nestled in red velvet was a silver comb and brush set engraved with their initials together, and beside them, what Gabriel could only assume, as he’d never smelled anything so fine save what William himself wore on occasion, were several costly scents decanted into cut crystal bottles. 

He traced the elaborate monogram with his finger. 

This was not a mere courtesy for a guest, nor a gesture of thanks to a friend or employee.

He’d had idle thoughts earlier about a wedding night, but this was nothing less than a wedding gift to a spouse. Gabriel thought the boldness of the act should have filled him with apprehension, but there was none. After all, what was William to him but a husband in deed if not in truth?

Gabriel returned to bed and felt William turn to him in sleep, an arm coming to rest across his waist in an unconscious embrace. _Yes_ , thought Gabriel. 

All was as it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious about the song Fanny sings, it's [True Lovers Farewell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQAGCOX0OYk), a very old and very lovely song, sung here by Odette Michell.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William’s hands clenched at his side as if desperately keeping himself from reaching for him. “I may not always be a...a well man, but never doubt that I am _your_ man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My undying gratitude to [LifeIsTicketyBoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeIsTicketyBoo) for her part in making this story what it is. 
> 
> To everyone else who has been kind enough to travel this journey with me, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Two weeks later, there was a harvest party at Everdene Farm in honor of the newly wedded Mr. and Mrs. Troy, and Gabriel had not been not invited.

He approved very much that most of Little Weatherbury had sent their regrets, save those whose positions would most benefit from the association. 

He approved all the more as he listened to the silence in the fields as he carried the last of his belongings from the cottage to the house.

Gabriel had settled that he would hire someone to oversee his acreage and they would have the cottage for their use. William had agreed easily, and a set of rooms was cleared for Gabriel, though he’d not made much use of them but for a place to keep his few belongings. If the servants thought much of it, they were keeping remarkably quiet on the matter, and Gabriel had faith Fanny would say something if there was cause for concern.

“The fields are all cleared, yes?” he asked the men as they came in for dinner.

“Aye, the corn and barley are in the rickyard.”

“The wheat?”

“Last of it came in yestereve.”

Gabriel nodded thoughtfully, an eye on the sky out the window. It was a hot, overcast day. “I think there may be rain sooner than later. After dinner, I want every able hand thatching the ricks.”

Every able hand included himself, and to his surprise, Mr. Boldwood.

“Gabriel, hand me that rod, will you? Thomas, pass me the straw.”

For all that he was a gentleman, Gabriel occasionally forgot Boldwood was also a farmer, and a very capable one at that. His speed with the rod was only matched by the experienced thatchers and Gabriel himself. A few moments after starting he removed his coat and cravat, baring his shirtsleeves and revealing a strip of skin below his throat as his shirt collar gaped open.

Gabriel slipped and nearly tumbled off the edge of the rick.

“Watch yourself there, Gabriel,” said William. “Mind your work,” he added, a slight smirk playing about his mouth.

They were finishing the last of the enormous hay ricks when the sky darkened to blackness and the first peal of thunder across the valley shook the window glass of the house. 

“Everyone inside!” bellowed Gabriel. 

The heavens opened. Within moments everyone was soaked to the skin. The maids were waiting inside with toweling and blankets for the men. 

“You’ve got a long walk home in this,” commented Thomas. It occurred to Gabriel that they’d not discussed what they would tell the men regarding his living arrangements. Turner spared him, however.

“Mr. Oak and Mr. Boldwood have formed a partnership on a new venture,” he explained. “Mr. Oak will be lookin’ to hire out the cottage in the spring an’ is keeping rooms here in the meantime.”

Thomas grinned. “Well congratulations, sir! I reckon you were always bound for better things!”

Gabriel smiled. “Thank you, Thomas.”

A short while later, the men had made their way home under umbrellas and sheets of oilcloth and Gabriel’s clothes were drying beside the fire in William’s bedchamber. Dressed in their night clothes, they stood before the great window watching the storm rage across the fields and orchards. Gabriel wrapped his arms around William from behind and placed a kiss under his ear. “You know, you looked rather dashing out there on the ricks.” William laughed. “I’m quite serious. Have you ever considered a bailiff position? I’ve recently come into my own property and I may be in the market.”

“You couldn’t afford me.”

“Now, now, don’t be so hasty. I have a hundred acres of my own and I’ll give you a share of the profits. All I ask in return is that you occasionally forget to button your shirt all the way up—”

William elbowed him in the ribs but there was little heat behind it. “Do you think they got their ricks covered?”

Gabriel did not have to ask who he spoke of, nor express he thought it unlikely. “Should we have offered our help?”

William stiffened in his arms. “After the way you were treated I shouldn’t think so.”

“It wasn’t my place to say anything. She was right to dismiss me.”

“That villain will ruin her utterly. You only meant to warn her.”

“She’ll learn. Hopefully not at the cost our Fanny did.”

The sky burst into light and sound, but both men and their crops were safe and dry.

Everdene farm did not fare as well.

“It’s a bad business,” said Thomas after receiving his duties for the day.

“Oh?” 

“They lost everything the night of the storm. Gave all the men strong brandy, Troy did, and they ended up drunk, sleeping the night away in the barn. Liddy said Mrs. Troy was distraught. Now the master has left for Casterbridge on business, though Mark Clark tells it that he enjoys a flutter more than is strictly proper an’ may be his business is more of the betting kind.”

Fanny had said as much that morning. “I imagine the debts are considerable.”

“Oh, I don’t imagine,” agreed Thomas.

Gabriel’s heart ached for Bathsheba. In his mind's eye she was still the young woman from Norcombe, bright, headstrong and beautiful. He’d never truly regretted her rejection, for he knew with absolute surety that she would rise and prevail, husband or none, and though she may have proved to be a wonderful wife, he knew in William he had found his all-in-all.

He had hardly stepped out the door to set himself upon the road to Weatherbury to pick up an order when he heard her voice calling behind him.

“Gabriel! Gabriel Oak, will you stop a moment please?”

Perplexed, Gabriel turned and waited for her to reach him. “Ma’am,” he said, as politely as he could manage. “Is something the matter?”

“Gabriel, I owe you an apology.”

Whatever he’d expected to hear, it certainly wasn’t that. Gabriel knew better than to start a row by agreeing. “If you say so, ma’am.”

As if knowing what he was thinking, she rolled her eyes. “I do say so. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but my farm—our farm, it’s...well, we’re very badly off. Frank wants me to sell it.”

“Sell Everdene Farm?” It beggared belief that any man who claimed to love her could ask her to give it up.

Bathsheba’s eyes filled with grief. “Gabriel, I don’t know what to do. I’ve given away my freedom because I was jealous and vain, and now I’m going to be ruined. What do I do?”

Gabriel looked up at the house and hung his head. “I have an idea but I need to discuss it with Mr. Boldwood first.”

Bathsheba followed his gaze to the windows of William’s study. “I’ve lost you utterly, haven’t I?”

Gabriel blinked in confusion. “Ma’am?”

“Bathsheba, please. I can’t imagine I ever thought myself above you.”

“Bathsheba, then. I’ll call tomorrow if everything is in order. Try not to sell the farm before then.”

“I’ll do my best. Thank you Gabriel. You’ve been a true and honest friend.”

Gabriel tipped his hat to her and went back inside to find William.

“Well there will be no question of hiring someone to oversee your acreage if you take on Everdene as well,” said William.

If Gabriel had worried his request would spark jealousy he needn’t have bothered. “Do you think I’m mad?”

“No. I think if anyone were capable of overseeing two thousand acres of farmland it would be you. My only concern is that you don’t swindle yourself out of your due out of an overabundance of compassion.”

“I intend to ask for a fair share. I have no illusions that if I can manage to save Everdene—”

“Again.”

“—Again,” Gabriel conceded, “I’ll be more than deserving. In truth I’m counting on it. My share of Little Weatherbury is generous, but with the income from Everdene as well I can invest more broadly in the hundred acres. Perhaps even see measurable results as early as February.”

William nodded. “A sensible plan. I approve.”

Gabriel smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Boldwood.”

William chuckled to himself. “I wouldn’t thank me yet. You still have to offer your services to Troy and if he accepts, you’ll have to work under him.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer me to focus my efforts here? Perhaps forbid me outright?”

He laughed, gamely, but his eyes were sincere. “I’m fond of her too, you know.”

Gabriel knew.

When Gabriel was shown inside, Troy appeared not at all comfortable in what Gabriel confessed to still thinking of as Bathsheba’s study.

“I’d like to offer my services as bailiff,” said Gabriel, coming directly to the point.

Troy looked at him with barely concealed disdain. “What need have I of a bailiff?”

“I don’t imagine you need one at all. You’re a... capable man, Mr. Troy.”

Troy sneered at him. “Indeed I am.”

“Yes… well, with the loss of the majority of the crop, I imagine you’ll be relying heavily on livestock for income this year. I’ve quite a bit of shepherding experience, as well experience managing cattle and dairy herds. You don’t yet keep pigs, I understand, but I believe it is not too late to purchase a herd and turn a modest profit in the spring.”

“You’ve given this quite a lot of thought, it seems,” said Troy.

“I have, sir, yes.”

Troy rolled a pen across the top of the desk. “I imagine you’d want a share of the farm as well.”

“No, sir. Well, not initially sir. Circumstances being what they are.”

“Of course, of course. But after you’ve had the running of it for a time and it’s producing a steady income it would be only right for you to have the fruits of your labor.”

“As you say, sir.” Gabriel couldn’t believe his luck. Troy seemed more than amenable to the idea.

“A tenth share of the farm, and perhaps twenty shillings a week, seems like a fair wage, don’t you think?” Troy asked, removing a sheet of paper from his desk and taking up his pen to write.

“I think that would be agreeable, yes, sir.”

Instead of proffering the pen for a signature, he folded the paper and extended it for Gabriel to take.

“You’d have us back on our feet within six months, wouldn’t you Oak?” he asked. “Unfortunately I’ve already made my intentions clear that I wish to divest the farm. It seems rural life doesn’t suit us.”

“Sir…”

“Good day, Mr. Oak. Stay away from my wife, if you know what’s best for you.”

Humiliated, Gabriel left as quickly as his feet could carry him, stopping in the yard only long enough to read the paper he was handed.

> Stay out of my affairs or it will go very badly for you.

“Gabriel!”

Bathsheba came running from the house, eyes reddened and streaming with tears. “Bathsheba, are you all right?” he asked. “I’m very sorry. I tried.”

She could hardly breathe for all her weeping but he didn’t dare console her in view of the servants or the prying eyes of her husband. 

“I know. Thank you, Gabriel. Will you please let Fanny know that no matter what happens, I will be here for the birth?”

“I’ll tell her.”

“Frank wants to sell the farm to the first bidder and have done with it, but I told him I won’t dishonor my uncle’s memory by selling the farm for less than it’s worth. In truth, I think I would have said anything to stop it.”

“I can’t blame you.”

“I’ll be here through autumn, Fanny can depend on it. I won’t be run off.”

“I understand. Be well, Bathsheba.”

The early autumn was a quiet time. The fields rested, the animals ate their fill (the dangers of new clover in the spring pastures now well passed) and the apple harvest had commenced, drawing men from Everdene Farm to fill bushels.

There was little new information to be had on the subject of Bathsheba Troy.

“Careworn,” said Jan Coggan one evening down at the malthouse. “She’s lost her spirit.” 

It was early October and the malter had taken over the cider production for the orchards. Gabriel stood all the men a pint of rough in celebration of a successful harvest. “Has the farm sold?” Gabriel asked.

“Not that I’ve heard,” replied Jan, shaking his head in a woebegone fashion. “It’s a damned shame what he’s done to that lass. I always thought you’d have made a fine pair, truth be told.”

Gabriel thought his face may have been trying to attempt something complicated while he thought of a response.

“Now don’t look like that,” said Jan. “I know you’re spoken for, but I still say she’s too proud for her own good and look where it got her.”

Gabriel only just kept his mouthful of cider from spraying the table. As it was, he hardly knew where to begin. “Spoken for?”

“Well,” said Jan. “I mean, we all assumed, but none would say nothin’ to your face, o’course.”

“I think you’re going to have to be a bit clearer, Jan, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Gabriel was suddenly afraid he knew exactly what Jan was talking about.

Jan cut his eyes, looked around to be sure they weren’t being evesdropped, then leaned forward and whispered rather loudly, “Miss Fanny Robin.”

After the blood returned to his extremities, Gabriel took a very long drink. 

“Well obviously you two are always a pair, and some of the girls got the notion it might be she got herself in a bad way with our master when he were her beau. Not to speak ill, of course. We all know how he is, there’s no blame to be had.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Gabriel, trying to follow the thread of the story.

“So’s we figured you two must have fallen in love, but it wouldn’t do to wed before… you know, and give up the game, so to speak. But they’ve all got their mind set that you’ll be wed in the new year just as soon as it’s right and proper.”

Gabriel drained his pint and called for another. “It’s a lovely story,” he said. “Unfortunately I’m afraid Fanny is rather like a sister to me.”

“But is she… you know?”

Gabriel hardened his face. “If it were your sister, would you answer that question?”

Jan flushed and ducked his head. “I reckon you’d get one in the mouth for your trouble.”

Gabriel toasted Jan with his new pint. “There you are then.”

The door opened and Joseph came running, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Gabriel and making his way over. 

“Gabriel! You’re meant to come home right away,” said Joseph who’d not been permitted to join them on account of an incident with a quart of stolen scrumpy and Farmer Everdene’s prized hen two years prior.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Mrs. Selwyn wouldn’t say, called me im...potent.”

“Impertinent.”

“Yeah, that’d be it!”

Gabriel looked at Jan who wore an innocent look which fooled Gabriel not one whit. “To hell with it,” he said, draining his pint in one. “Let’s go,” he said, following Joseph out the door.

At the same time, Liddy brought a message to her mistress at Everdene Farm.

“Oh!” said Bathsheba, springing up from her seat. “I need to go to Little Weatherbury.”

“What business is so urgent it requires you abandon your husband?” asked Troy, irritably over his pipe.

“A girl who used to work for me is expecting. I occasionally assisted the midwife in Norcombe and I was asked to attend the birth,” she said, already donning her cape. “I’m told the midwife in Weatherbury is a terrible gossip and poor Fanny was ready to do without entirely.”

A strange expression passed over Troy’s face. “Fanny Robin?” he asked.

Bathsheba startled. “You know her?” As Bathsheba seemed to recognize the significance of their association, Troy rose from his seat at speed, all signs of his drunken torpor gone. 

“Frank no—” She tried. Troy cuffed her, hard, across the cheek. She stumbled and fell, hitting her head upon the corner of the table and became unconscious.

Troy took up his sword and ran out into the night.

Gabriel arrived to find the household in a minor uproar.

“Oh, Gabriel, thank God you’re here,” said William who appeared to have been pacing the halls. “We were quite alone in the study and suddenly there was the most extraordinary issue of fluid I’ve ever seen outside a barn…”

Gabriel took him by the shoulders. “It’s alright. I’m here now. Where’s Fanny? Is she well?”

“As well as can be expected, I imagine. She’s in the room with Mrs. Selwyn now. Do you think I ought to fetch the calf chains?”

“What? No! Good Lord, William, have a brandy and calm yourself. It will be fine. Is Mrs. Troy on her way?”

William pursed his lips. “I sent for her, though we’ve not seen nor heard from her yet.”

At that moment Mrs. Selwyn emerged from the small room adjacent to the study. It had served many uses over the years for the master of the house, most recently as a snuggery for Mr. Boldwood’s father. As William had few hobbies apart from his industry himself, it had mostly sat empty for the better part of two decades. Because of its general isolation from the rest of the home and close proximity to both the kitchen and the study, William thought it might make an ideal room for Fanny’s laying in. 

It was then summarily redecorated in a fashion that would have been the envy of any expecting mother of the royal family. Privately, Fanny and Gabriel balked at the extravagance, but neither could deny it made William extraordinarily happy to have someone to dote on, so they bit their tongues and complimented the design while privately shaking their heads at the ridiculousness of it all.

“I think we’ve waited as long as we dare,” said Mrs. Selwyn. “We need to call the midwife. Mrs. Troy is not coming and the baby has not turned. I can’t deliver her.”

From within, Fanny cried out. “Is there nothing more we can do?” asked William.

Gabriel and Mrs. Selwyn exchanged a grave look.

“Gabriel, surely you can assist?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Sir, I’m not a physician or a midwife.”

“If we do nothing, she dies.”

Gabriel made a noise of frustration. “I don’t suppose you’ve any anatomical references?”

William sparked to life and called for Turner. Three large volumes were produced at speed. “My uncle studied medicine before he went mad,” William explained as Gabriel paged through the books, looking for any sort of reference to the female anatomy and deliberately ignoring the other half of that statement for examination another day.

Under his breath, William asked, “It’s not a complete mystery to you, is it?”

Gabriel huffed out a laugh. “From this perspective? Entirely.” Finding what he was looking for at last, he made a quick note of the relevant differences, and closed the book. “I make no promises. I’m not a doctor, and Fanny is no ewe.”

“All I ask is that you try,” said William. Gabriel nodded and entered the room.

Fanny was wan and pale against the sheets. Her golden hair braided into a halo around her head was coming loose in pieces and sticking to her face. Mrs. Selwyn bathed her face tenderly as she labored. “Gabriel...what?” she asked, weakly.

“Mrs. Selwyn, I need you to keep Fanny as still as you can,” he said. To Fanny he added, “I’m going to try and turn the child.”

A crash echoed from outside the room. “What was that?” she asked.

Gabriel had no idea, but there was little time to concern himself with the matter. With both hands atop her stomach he felt for the head and rump of the infant and when he felt her relax, pressed hard to turn the child. Fanny screamed.

There was another crash and a shout from outside the room. Gabriel ignored it and tried again. Fanny whimpered miserably, but Gabriel felt the head settle into the proper position at last. “Stay down, little one,” he murmured. 

Mrs. Selwyn went to the foot of the bed and peered beneath Fanny’s gown. “Praise God, I can see the head now. You’ll be alright, girl. Gabriel, go and see what’s—”

A gun went off.

Gabriel threw open the door. William knelt on the carpet in a rapidly spreading pool of blood. “No...no...no…”

Gabriel threw his arms around William’s chest and pulled him bodily away from the blood, his heels scrabbling at the carpet. “It’s not mine, Gabriel, I’m...it’s not mine…” he said.

Gabriel was half sprawled across the floor under William’s weight when he saw the body. 

Frank Troy lay dead, his blood draining from a single gunshot wound to his chest.

“What happened?” asked Gabriel.

Turner appeared then, a bruise blossoming across his brow and blood across the neck of his shirt. “Sir, are you all right?”

“Turner, what’s happened?” he asked.

Turner took in the scene with obvious satisfaction. “Mr. Troy came to the door, sword drawn, demanding to see Fanny. I told him she wasn’t here but he didn’t believe me. I tried to keep him out, but he knocked me with the handle of his sword and I only just came to.”

Gabriel hissed out a breath. “Mrs. Troy must have let it slip.”

“Not her fault,” said William. “We never told her who the father was.”

“He attacked you?” Gabriel asked.

William nodded miserably. “He was drunk. Enraged. Demanded I give Fanny over to him immediately. I...tried to reason with him. I reminded him he was married, that the child would only bring scandal upon him and his wife. He didn’t care, he was… he offered to trade me his wife and the child in exchange.” Turner hissed in disgust. “I tried to block his entry to the room and we scuffled. I told him Fanny was in labor and couldn’t be moved, but he wouldn’t stop, so I drew the pistol from my desk thinking to frighten him. He charged at me instead. I shot.”

Gabriel dropped his head.

“It was self-defense, sir. As clear-cut as ever I’ve heard,” said Turner.

The sound of running footsteps announced Mrs. Troy moments before they caught sight of her. Her gown was torn and her face swollen and bruising. She seemed to take in the entire scene in an instant. She looked dispassionately upon the body of her fallen husband. 

“Mr. Boldwood, I apologize for the actions of my late husband. I am gratified to find you unharmed.”

“Mrs. Troy I—”

“Gabriel, I believe I owe you another apology. I understand you were trying to warn me in your own way without betraying Fanny’s confidence.” Bathsheba’s face shaded with grief for a moment as she looked down at Troy. “I loved you,” she said, the quaver in her voice telling a story of betrayal. 

“I’ll send for the constable,” said Gabriel.

“No,” Said Bathsheba. “You’ve done enough. For once let me clean up a mess of my own making. Mr. Boldwood is not at fault here, he should not bear the responsibility of accounting for it, nor should Fanny face exposure and ridicule. Nor would I wish for the two of you to face any special scrutiny,” she added, cutting her eyes. “You’ve been faithful friends to me as long as I’ve been here. It’s past time I returned the favor.”

“What will we do then?” asked Gabriel.

Turner stepped forward, a grim determination on his face. “You leave that to me. The mistress is right. Take care of Mr. Boldwood, Bailiff Oak.”

A piercing cry shattered the somber silence and the sudden reminder of their purpose that evening set everyone in motion.

“I’ll see if I can assist Fanny,” said Bathsheba. “Turner, if you could remove Mr. Troy to the cellar for the time being I’ll be with you shortly.”

“Just as you say, Ma’am.” 

“Are you hurt at all?” Gabriel asked William softly. William shook his head and Gabriel helped him to his feet, steadying him with his arm.

William was pliant, mechanical even, in his movements. His face betrayed no expression and he was silent as the sky before a storm.

Gabriel undressed him and put him in his nightshirt as gently as he was able. The moments after a crisis were always the simplest. Do what needs to be done and get on with it. With his attention on William, there was no time for fear, for recrimination, for doubt or pain.

William went to bed without argument. A moment after he’d drawn the counterpain around his shoulders he saw him begin to shiver and quake. He said nothing. There were no tears. 

Heedless of his own state, Gabriel climbed onto the bed and lay himself fully atop his love. William’s breathing began to slow, his eyes to blink into the dim moonlight through the window.

“I’m so sorry, Gabriel. I’m so sorry,” he said.

“Hush,” said Gabriel. “None of that.”

Gabriel’s weight a soothing presence, William soon drifted off into an exhausted sleep. Gabriel removed himself from the bed and returned to the study where the only evidence of the past few hours was a dark stain on a carpet.

“She’s a rare woman, Mrs. Troy.”

Gabriel looked up to see Turner in the doorway. “That she is.”

“She and I are seeing to the...remains. Steel spine and iron stomach on that one.”

Gabriel’s eyes were fixed on the blood stain. He imagined it spreading the length of the room, covering the walls, the ceiling, his own hands and all he touched. “I’ll build a fire. Help me get this carpet up.”

Turner seemed to hesitate. “Is the master well?” 

Gabriel tried to clear the vision of blood from his mind’s eye. William had just murdered a man to cover their sins. They’d denied Troy the mother of his child to preserve Fanny’s good name and now his widow was butchering him into hog feed to spare them both a drop from the gallows. How could William be well? How could anything be well again?

“I need to build a fire.”

Gabriel threw another log onto the pyre, listening to the flames crackle and hiss around metal and fabric and wood. Turner had brought him a pile of bloodied clothing and Gabriel had thrown it in. Some time later he was startled by a warm presence at his elbow. 

Gabriel stiffened. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

William wasn’t put off. “A lot of things shouldn’t have happened, but here we are,” he said, pulling his dressing gown tighter across his chest.

Gabriel couldn’t look at him. “You should rest.”

William scoffed and threw a stick on the fire. “Could you sleep after a night like this?”

William needed comfort and reassurance. Gabriel looked around the yard and seeing it predictably emptied and the windows reassuringly darkened, put his own turmoil aside and took William’s hand. “I meant to spare you is all.”

“Why should I be spared this? Is it not my own doing?”

He was baiting him. Provoking him to some sort of row, it seemed. “What do you want from me William?”

“Honesty.”

Gabriel laughed humorlessly. “No, you don’t.”

William pulled away to face Gabriel. “Everyone seems to be of the opinion that I’m going to shatter like glass. I would hope that you might know me better than that.”

Gabriel thought it a fairly accurate assessment of his fears, but who was he to deny him the opportunity to dash himself against Gabriel’s edges. He was right. He couldn’t sleep after a night such as this, he was not unaffected, and perhaps a row would be just the thing for it. “Fine! You committed murder in our home! Our lives have been forever tainted by this sin and it’s corrupting everyone and everything I love!”

William nodded, obviously shaken but admirably upright. “You despise me.”

“Not a bit,” he confessed, voice breaking. “I despise _myself_. Who kept Fanny’s secrets and induced everyone else to do the same? Who tempted you into an arrangement that could see the both of us hung or blackmailed for the rest of our lives? I ruin everything I touch! When I came out of that room, I felt only relief that you weren’t harmed. I felt such gratitude to Bathsheba for keeping us from facing the justice we deserve. _What kind of a man am I_?”

Gabriel felt hot shame as his tears burst forth in a torrent. A moment later, William’s surprisingly strong arms were bearing him up as he sobbed into his shoulder.

“A good one. A _good_ one, Gabriel. Oh, my love.” Gabriel could scarcely draw breath through the tears wracking his body, and William’s words only increased their ferocity. “I do believe you’ve been too much alone for too long.” Gabriel’s breath hitched at the sound of his own words turned back upon him. “No man could bear up alone under the weight of the burden you’ve shouldered. Please, let me share it. I beg you.”

Gabriel tried to control himself by pulling away and found himself crying harder. The shame of it was agonizing. “How can I a...ask it of you?” he demanded. “With your spells—I fear the least thing may send you to your room for days! You were better off without me. I’ve made a murderer of you and a butcher of Bathsheba and a fallen woman of Fanny. I ought to have followed my sheep off that cliff.”

William’s hands clenched at his side as if desperately keeping himself from reaching for him. “I may not always be a...a well man, but never doubt that I am _your_ man. Whether I am abed and melancholy or in a mania of activity, the one fixed point in my life is you. I know you’ve been trying to save me from myself since nearly the moment we met, but dammit, Gabriel, you’ve never even given me the chance to save myself, let alone you!”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with a savior,” said Gabriel, helplessly.

William looked as unyielding as he’d ever seen. “That night in the woods, I upset you, and you said nothing. You questioned me, but you didn’t push the matter. In the moment, I felt no fear of discovery. I justified it to myself that you obviously enjoyed yourself, but the next morning I found myself perplexed by my own behavior and more than a little mortified. I waited for you to confront me, to urge more caution, but you never said a word. Why? Is it the difference in our station?”

“No. It was only that you seemed so happy, I resolved I could be braver for you. I never wanted you to feel ashamed of your love for me,” said Gabriel.

“No, that was your job, wasn’t it?”

Gabriel felt as if a knife had been plunged into his heart and twisted. 

William finally dared to reach for Gabriel’s hand, holding it in his own as he spoke. “There is bravery, and there is foolhardiness, and I dare say we’ve walked that line more closely than most. I’ve done a good line in repentance over the years, and I can tell you first hand that propriety cannot be manufactured wholesale from regret,” said William. “I will attempt more discretion, and you must tell me when I fail. I won’t have you destroying yourself for my sake! I want to keep this life as fiercely as you do, but I expect it will require effort on both our parts to do so.”

Gabriel covered William’s hand with his own, only realizing with the burden lifted, how heavily bearing the sole responsibility for their privacy had weighed upon him. “Thank you.” He still felt tremendously foolish for his outburst, but it hadn’t seemed to dim any of William’s regard for him. 

“None of this is your fault. You are no more responsible for Troy’s death than you are for Fanny’s predicament. Deny us agency in our own lives and you deny us the opportunity to be more than another responsibility for you to shoulder. Let me be an equal partner in this. Your yoke is easy and your burden is light, I promise.”

Gabriel laughed, which he suspected had been his intention. “Blasphemy,” he said. “But your point is taken. I will do my best to remember I may rely on you.”

“Good. In the spirit of full disclosure, I expect I’m going to be spectacularly useless tomorrow.”

Gabriel smiled sadly. “I assumed.”

Together they turned back to the fire and leaned close to one another. “Do you suppose the servants will keep their silence?” asked William.

“I suspect so,” said Gabriel. “Turner might have happily taken your place and with a good deal more enthusiasm.”

“I feel remarkably little remorse for all that I ended a man’s life.”

“It was self-defense,” said Gabriel. “Troy was a drunkard and a rake and he was going to kill you and harm Fanny. Despite my own misgivings, I do believe the world is better for his absence.”

“I’ve widowed Bathsheba.”

“I suspect widowhood may suit her better than wedlock ever did.”

“Will we weather this, Gabriel?” William asked.

Gabriel looked inward and found none of the trepidation that had dogged his steps since their first kiss. “Yes, we will.”

William must have heard some of Gabriel’s newfound surety in his quick response. “How do you know?”

Gabriel dared to put an arm around William and draw him close. 

“Because I’m not alone anymore.”

By morning, the only evidence of Francis Troy’s murder lay abed in the master suite of the large house. 

It was inevitable, thought Gabriel, that such an action would bring about one of William’s spells of melancholy, and yet there was little to be done to remedy it.

Gabriel was as gentle as could be knowing William’s condition was not of his own making, and he found himself reassured by their conversation that William would not abandon him altogether, but a week later the situation had not improved. The farm would begin to suffer for lack of William’s oversight of the business and Gabriel, desperate, sought out Fanny in her laying-in.

“Wait it out,” said Fanny, nursing her new daughter. She’d been horrified to learn of what had transpired at the hour of her child’s birth, yet rather unsurprised that he had come to such an end and admirably pragmatic about their decision not to inform the constabulary. 

“Is there nothing else I can do? Send for the doctor—”

“The doctor is worse than useless. Turner only ever sent for him to put the fear of his sister finding out into him.” The baby whimpered and Fanny moved her to the other breast. 

Gabriel stroked the back of the baby’s head with a finger. “I ought to work on the books. They’ve been neglected for long enough, but I’m not as quick with the figures as Mr. Boldwood is and we’re meant to go to market this week.”

Fanny sighed. “Take her, will you? I need to get up.”

Gabriel took the babe as if it were one of his lambs. “I thought you were meant to be lying-in?”

Fanny donned her robe. “I’m fine, Gabriel, and you two are falling apart without me.”

“Fanny…”

“Don’t nag me,” she said, tying the cord of her dressing gown at her waist and standing. Finding her feet sturdy beneath her she directed, “Give her here. Go get him a tray from the kitchen and make sure he eats it.”

“You know he’s intractable when he’s like this, and the books...”

“Tell him to get up and do the books himself! But draw a bath for him, first. He’s been abed nearly as long as I have and I assure you we both need a wash.”

“And then what?”

“And then he’s going to meet his new godchild.”

Arousing William to rejoin the society of his household was not altogether the most difficult task Gabriel had undertaken, though it was a struggle to bring any others to mind. In his darkest moods he was immovable and unresponsive to all but the most urgent of necessities. This particular mood was not the worst Gabriel had seen for all that it was rivaling the others in duration, but William was still extremely resistant to leaving his bed. Gabriel began to worry their shouting would soon draw the attention of the staff.

He’d managed to get the man bathed, hissing and spitting like a wet cat the entire time, and had only just shifted him into a bathrobe when the door of his bedchamber swung open.

“William Thomas Boldwood, I am _ashamed_ of you acting like a spoilt child an’ leaving poor Gabriel to mind the entire estate when he’s neither born to it nor trained up in it’s keeping!” shouted Fanny.

William leapt half a foot in the air at her entrance and screamed as Gabriel had never heard as he struggled to close his robe.

“Oh, calm yourself, it’s not that interesting, anyway,” Fanny said shrewishly, and Gabriel thought he’d never loved her more.

“Fanny… I’m sorry, is that… is that your…”

“Yes she is, and I ought to forbid you to hold her until you get that tray eaten, but since you’ve at least bathed, I reckon you can meet her.” 

William calmed immediately, a wondrous look on his face. “Go sit where you’re comfortable,” Fanny directed, and William immediately found a seat in the wingback chair by his bureau. His eyes were worshipful as Fanny gently laid the sleeping bundle in his arms. “No, cradle her head… yes, just so. She don’t have the strength to hold it up on her own yet.”

His eyes never left the babe as he said, “Forgive me Fanny, I haven’t yet found a home for her.”

“If you’ll forgive my saying so, William, I think she has a fine home right here,” said Gabriel.

“Oh, do you think so?” he asked, with genuine surprise.

“I do,” said Gabriel. “I think she’ll never want for love or care. Certainly not dresses or toys.”

“You’ll _both_ spoil her. But Gabriel is right. I won’t send her off. I may be foolish, but I mean to keep her, if I may. I’ll still keep her even if I mayn’t, I’ll just have to find employment elsewhere.”

William looked as if he’d been struck. “Of _course_ you may, Fanny. I only meant to help if it was what you wished. You’ve been one of my dearest friends and she’s your daughter. I would never send either of you off.”

“As if there was any question,” said Gabriel. “Have you ever seen two people so in love?” 

Indeed, the child’s eyes had opened and fixed immediately on William, and each appeared mesmerized by the other.

“What is her name?” asked William.

“Sarah,” said Fanny.

“Boldwood,” finished Gabriel. “A very generous gesture on behalf of the gentleman who found her in a basket on his doorstep, if I do say so myself.”

“Sarah Boldwood,” said William, caressing her small cheek. “I do believe you and I will be very great friends.”

**Epilogue**

_Six years later_

Everyone knew Frank Troy had run off the night of Sarah Boldwood’s appearance on Farmer Boldwood’s doorstep, and all held their own suspicions of the reason for it.

Mark Clark had claimed to see someone looking quite like Mr. Troy performing with a troupe of traveling showmen in Casterbridge and no one _really_ thought it a surprise that Fanny Robin should have taken the foundling child as her own, the little girl sharing in her long, golden hair and fey grey eyes.

But everyone liked Fanny and always had, and _nobody_ liked Frank Troy, and there wasn’t a soul between Casterbridge and Shottsford who didn’t adore little Sarah, who presided over the fields and pastures of Oakwood Farms and Experimental Acreage from the shoulders of Mr. Boldwood himself. The pair were utterly besotted with one another and had charmed more than one stern farmer into a bargain that heavily favored the pair of them.

Gabriel Oak was undeniably proud of the girl’s business acumen. Though William had indeed made a considerable dent in their finances attempting to provide her every luxury a young child could desire, by the time she was five years old, she was clever enough with figures to scold her Papa for overspending. 

Fanny and Gabriel laughed themselves sick.

Gabriel, for his part, was quite occupied overseeing Everdene Farm as well as their own. Though it had taken several years and a good deal of instruction, Jacob Poorgrass had risen to the task of overseeing Gabriel’s hundred acre experimental farm, and a year later, had asked for and received the hand of Liddy Smallbury in marriage. The two now resided in Nest Cottage and made a rather sickening pair, though Gabriel couldn’t deny his pride in his young apprentice and tennant.

As Sarah’s sixth birthday approached, all Weatherbury held their breath. Frank Troy would be declared legally dead, and the Everdene farm would formally pass back into Bathsheba Troy’s hands. A widow of such stature would make a formidable wife for any man, and there were many who thought either of Weatherbury’s most eligible bachelors might make a suit for her hand.

Of course, neither intended to do any such thing, having shared a bed, finances and family for the past six years, but nor were they about to correct the village at large on that point.

“You know, Gabriel,” said William, one evening before the fire. Fanny sat in the corner, swearing creatively at a piece of embroidery while Sarah lay on the carpet, a large book of stories laid out before her. Gabriel swirled the brandy in his glass and watched the firelight dance in their little girl’s curls. She was as much his daughter as William’s and Fanny’s, though he was “Gable” to her, and always had been. “I’ve been thinking. My parents used to host a Christmas for the village here when I was young. It was one of my fonder memories of childhood. Of course, when it was just myself here it never seemed worth the bother, but now…”

“It’s a good idea,” Gabriel agreed.

“You think so?”

Gabriel nudged Sarah’s sock foot with his own. “Should we throw a party for Christmas?”

“Yes!” she agreed enthusiastically, springing up and jumping into Gabriel’s lap. 

“Well that’s settled then,” said William happily. 

October came and went, and Mrs. Troy became the widow Troy, and nothing changed overmuch that anyone could see. Gabriel thought it a testament to her natural independence, but William seemed to grow concerned, though whether it was out of natural paranoia or some information Gabriel himself was not privy to, he could not say.

Finally, on a frigid November day he discovered the reason. “Here,” said William. “Take a look at this. It arrived just this morning in the post. She must have received our invitation.”

Gabriel looked.

> Dearest Messrs. Boldwood and Oak,
> 
> I am pleased to accept your invitation to your Christmas party and I look forward to it with great anticipation. Please give my love to Fanny and Sarah. 
> 
> Yours sincerely,  
>  Bathsheba 

“It looks like a response to the invitation.”

William huffed in frustration. “Look at the back!”

> I do hope your duties as host won’t prevent me taking a moment of your time to discuss a matter of some importance.

“There! You see?”

Gabriel sighed. “It’s probably nothing.”

“A matter of some importance is nothing?”

“No, it’s a matter of some importance, but that could be almost anything. I don’t think it’s worth worrying about.”

“What if she wishes to marry me? You saw that valentine as well as I did!”

Gabriel restrained himself from rolling his eyes, but only just. “I feel certain she would have made her intentions plain at some point in the intervening six years had it been meant in earnest.”

“What if she has designs on the farm?”

“She can’t have it.”

“ _Gabriel_ , what if she blackmails us?”

Gabriel could not be flippant. “Then we engage a solicitor and remind her she is not without blame. William,” he said, taking his beloved by the hand. “Every day we are at some risk of exposure and censure for choosing to live as we do. The... incident... she was party to notwithstanding.”

William bowed his head. “I know. I have endeavored to be more moderate in my behavior,” he said.

Gabriel took his hand. “And you’ve succeeded admirably. I’ve no intention of giving you up, so she had better be talking about purchasing several of our hogs for breeding and not stealing you away.”

Gabriel was kissed thoroughly for his remarks, which he thought was only fair. “Let’s hear her out. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

By Christmas Eve Gabriel had four bags packed and four tickets in his coat pocket for a steamer to France should they be required at short notice, not that he told William that. For his benefit, he maintained complete confidence in Bathsheba. Privately, he was tallying up which of the silver pieces would be easiest to carry and he’d caught Fanny trying on dresses one atop the other.

For her part, Sarah was completely oblivious to the very adult difficulties going on around her. There was a party, after all, and someone had foolishly provided a table covered entirely in sweets without an armed guard. The now six-year-old was currently chasing George through the crowded throng of party-goers, excitement at a fever pitch.

Gabriel had to admit, when William had a good idea, it was spectacular. 

“She seems to be enjoying herself,” said William, coming to stand beside him. 

“She does, doesn’t she. I wonder if I ought to rescue George.”

William laughed. “I think he’s enjoying it nearly as much as she. He so rarely has anything to herd these days and Sarah provides such ample opportunity.”

Gabriel couldn’t disagree with that assessment. 

“Mr. Boldwood! Mr. Oak! I’m so pleased to see you!”

They turned as one and regarded Bathsheba in her lovely gown of black silk. Gabriel was certainly correct that the life of a widow suited her. “Mrs. Troy,” they acknowledged.

“Mr. Boldwood, I wondered if I might have a word?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.

Before Gabriel could protest they were gone. A small hand tugged at his coat.

“Gable dance with me.” 

Gabriel bowed and extended his hand. “It would be my pleasure.”

With great care, she stepped onto his shoes, and laughed boisterously as he danced them both around the room. He had never been a gifted dancer but he found others were far more likely to forgive his rough manner with a small child impeding his steps. After a while, the song changed into something faster, and he picked her up onto his hip to whirl her about the room, her laughter turning to shrieks of joy.

There had never been a doubt in his mind about choosing to spend his life with William, but he’d all but given up hope of anything like this in his life. To have Sarah now, the daughter of his heart, felt like the most unexpected and longed-for gift he’d ever been given. Whatever became of the conversation between William and Bathsheba, he could never regret any of it.

“Mr. Oak.” Fanny stood at his elbow and Sarah leaned down to be picked up by her mother. “They’re asking to speak with the both of us,” she said. “I’ll just take her up to bed and meet you in Mr. Boldwood’s study.” Gabriel nodded assent and kissed Sarah goodnight. 

Bathsheba was seated in Gabriel’s chair, which rankled. He took a seat nearer the fire, and he could see William attempting to apologize with his eyes. Gabriel tried to convey similarly that he held him blameless, but feared, as always, William would assume he’d only eaten something that disagreed with him.

“Gabriel, I’m so glad you could join us,” she said. “We’ve been talking about your farm and how splendidly you're doing with your fertilizer experiments.”

Gabriel nodded amiably. “We have had some remarkable successes this year.”

At that moment Fanny entered and took a seat nearby. 

“Good,” said Bathsheba. “Now that we’re all here, we can get to business.”

“Before you say anything,” said William, “Please know that while I hold you in the highest regard as my neighbor and friend of these past six years, I cannot claim to any particular feeling which might predispose me toward a furtherance of that relationship.”

Silence reigned for a long moment. “I beg your pardon?”

At once they all realized they’d been rather foolish in their assumptions. “Nevermind. Do say what you meant to say.”

Bathsheba looked at Fanny in particular and asked, “Did you know I went to school to become a governess?”

Fanny looked startled and glanced between the two men. “No, ma’am, I didn’t.”

Bathsheba smiled. “I did. I expect I would have been terrible at it then, but I find myself somewhat more settled these days. Can you tell me what plans you’ve made for young Miss Boldwood’s future?”

Gabriel looked helplessly to Fanny and William. William spoke first. “I’d rather thought we might hire a governess in the following year, though I haven’t yet engaged anyone. Beyond that she has the rank and privilege of my name and the freedom to do with that what she will.”

Bathsheba grinned as if he’d said something terribly clever. “I’m very pleased to hear it. As you know, Everdene Farm passed back into my sole possession two months ago. I think you would understand if I was to tell you I am not in any hurry to give it up again.”

“Naturally not,” agreed Gabriel.

“So I find myself in a unique position as a woman possessed of a considerable fortune of her own and no direct heir. However, given that Miss Boldwood and I share a connection, however unfortunate, to my late husband, I thought I might perhaps pass it on to her. What do you think?”

Gabriel was astonished, as were the others it appeared. “That would be incredibly generous of you. Forgive me if this is impertinent, but are you certain you won’t have any heirs of your own? You’re still quite a young woman.”

Bathsheba smiled rather sadly. “I once told you I shouldn’t mind being a bride at a wedding so long as I didn’t have to have a husband to do it. It would seem my feelings on motherhood run in a similar vein. I adore Sarah, and I could easily see mothering children of my own, were it not at the expense of my freedom.”

Gabriel regretted ever calling such an opinion stupid.

“There is a caveat, however,” she added. “I should like very much for her to become my ward. She would live with me in my home, I would provide for her, teach her as a governess and apprentice her to myself in the keeping of the farm until she is old enough to marry or take on its running herself.”

William looked rather like he’d been struck. “It is… a sensible idea, of course, and a tremendous opportunity for her. What say you, Fanny?”

Fanny twisted her shawl in her hands. “Are we never to see her?”

“Oh no!” said Bathsheba at once. “Of course you’ll see her! As much as you like. She could easily come home every week-end, and, of course, we’re neighbors and you’re always welcome in my home.”

Fanny seemed to relax at that. “I suppose such an arrangement wouldn’t be far different from sending her off with a governess most days.”

“Not at all, in my experience,” agreed William. “I would, however, insist on providing for her education.”

“I could agree to that. What do you say, Gabriel?”

Gabriel looked at the three of them. “It’s a sound idea in theory. In practice I would have concerns about eventual remarriage and disinheritance.”

Bathsheba shared a look with Fanny. “I do not intend to marry again. Ever.”

“Nor do I,” said Fanny, softly.

“I’ve had my taste of it, and I did not care for it at all,” said Bathsheba.

“For my part, I’m content with Sarah,” added Fanny. “I have all the family I want.”

Bathsheba seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “However, now that I’m free, there is another possibility which you alluded to earlier.”

Gabriel’s blood froze.

“You’ve been remarkably fortunate thus far that no one has questioned your living arrangement,” she said. 

William looked faint and Gabriel wondered if he might need to find smelling salts in short order.

“We’ve had words on the matter over the years,” added Fanny. “Nothing indiscrete, mind.”

“I think we’d be rather better judges of what indiscretion might be in this case,” snapped William. “It is not your lives on the line.”

“No, it isn’t,” Bathsheba agreed. “Which is why Fanny and I both agreed to remain single in the event either of you should desire the security of marriage as a shield against prosecution.”

Gabriel was shocked. “For us?”

Fanny shrugged. “I’m really not bothered. You’re both family to me. Nothing would need change, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Although I would ask to keep soul possession of my farm and continue its operation,” Bathsheba added for William’s benefit. 

William shook his head in confusion. “As if there was any doubt!”

Bathsheba and Fanny exchanged a fond look and excused themselves, leaving both men to discuss the proposition at hand.

A short while later they returned to the party, seeing to the guests and collecting well wishes for the New Year.

“It was a wonderful party,” said Gabriel as William and he watched the last of the guests leave down the front walk. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” agreed William before letting out a heroic yawn.

“You should get some rest,” said Gabriel. “I’ll stay and help clean up a bit.”

William pecked his lips and went to bed. Gabriel helped Fanny clear away the remaining food and put out the lamps. The rest, he knew, could wait. 

Fanny followed Gabriel up the stairs. Inside his bedchamber, William snored softly, his arm around Sarah while her small hands fisted in his nightshirt as she slept on, oblivious to their observers.

Fanny sighed. “We’ll have to break both of them of the habit before she goes to Everdene,” she said. Carefully, she lifted the little girl from the bed and bade Gabriel good night.

As Gabriel slid into bed beside him, William stirred. “Did you tell Bathsheba we already named Sarah our heir?”

William snuffled in his sleep and rolled into Gabriel who tucked him under his arm. “No.”

Gabriel laughed softly. “She’ll certainly have her pick of husbands.”

“One for every day of the week if she likes,” William agreed.

“Or none at all.”

“Or none at all,” he conceded. “Thank you,” said William in a voice still half in dreams.

“For?”

“Sharing your life with me.”

Such a statement demanded a kiss, tenderly bestowed. “It’s been a pleasure,” Gabriel said, honestly.

There would be no wedding register to show two men finding their salvation in one another. There would be no account of a young woman spared the horror of poverty, ruin and a child born out of wedlock, nor of the child spared the stigma of her birth. No story of absolution for a marriage made in haste. For others there would be countless tales of all the horrors of the world, but for these secret lodestars in a sea of troubles, there would be no record save a little girl dreaming sweetly in a bed down the hall. Perhaps for her, Gabriel thought, these seeds of kindness and compassion would one day cultivate the strength in her to be a light to others in dark times. 

“What shall I do when she is gone from here?” asked William, sounding a bit lost.

“Run mad, I expect,” said Gabriel, tucking William more closely against his chest as snow began to fall outside. 

“Perhaps one of the other servants can be persuaded to run off, I’d hate for you to feel idle,” William quipped.

William was still ticklish in several sensitive areas, Gabriel was pleased to note. “We’ll simply have to grow old and senile together so that she’s forced to return and care for us in our dotage.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“What, senility?”

“Together.”

Gabriel would not deny a man so utterly determined to be kissed. He gave William his due, then pulled up the blankets, cocooning the two of them against the world and the frigid December air.

“Together, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you are old and grey and full of sleep,  
> And nodding by the fire, take down this book,  
> And slowly read, and dream of the soft look  
> Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
> 
> How many loved your moments of glad grace,  
> And loved your beauty with love false or true,  
> But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,  
> And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
> 
> And bending down beside the glowing bars,  
> Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled  
> And paced upon the mountains overhead  
> And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
> 
> William Butler Yeats


End file.
